


SIBELLE; 



o i« , 



Up Among the Millions 



A SOCIETY DRAMA, 



msr FIYE ACTS. 



By W. HOLLAND. 



(Copyright 1MB by W. HOLLA XI). All Right* Reserved.* 



L'»NGMONT. COLO.: 
VALLEY HOME AND FARM PRINT. 

1879. 



* ■ 



S1BELLE; 



O 



Up Among the Millions 



J± SOCIETY ORAMLjV, 



1 1ST ZFZtTiE! ACTS. 



By W. HOLLAND. 



Copyright 1878, by W. HOLLAND. All Rights Reserved.) 



-, - c oPYR,'G*Jtf<£\ 

37 $ ^M 



LONGMONT, COLO.: 

VALLEY HOME AND FARM PRINT. 

1879. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS: 

8IBE1.LE, a Millionaire Miss Libbie Tiffany 

CLAKENCE SUMMERFIELD. in loye withSibelle W. Holland 

EUGENE WATSON, alter Sibelle's money F. Salade 

EDA THORNTON, in love with Eugene, Miss Mary Boynton 

Mr. PARTINGTON, Detective, in disguise as a Swell W. Cole 

BOBBY BURT, Eugene Watson's confederate S. Williams 

Mr. HOWELL, Clergyman . • J. J. Burke 

ALICE JEWETT. Guest of Sibelle, Miss Ida Holland 

LULU MUNGER. " " Miss Evelyn Cole 

CECIL COLLINS, " " C.F.Kendall 

LEROY ALLEN, *' " A. L. Williams 

Old PHILIP, Servant (colored), C. W. Boynton 

JOHN, Footman M. Wilson 

COSTUMES. 

SIBELLE: Act L, Fashionably attired. Act II., first dress, velvet riding 

habit, blue or black ; second dress, fashionable attire for evening 

party, with summer shawl and but. Acts III., IV. .and V., fashionably 

attired 
EDA THORNTON: Act I., Fashionably attired. Act II. Evening party 

dress. Acts III., IV. and V.. dressed in fashion. 
Miss MUNGER: Act IL.'Evening party. Act III. Dressed in fashion. 
Miss JEWETT : Act II., Evening party. Act III., Dressed in fashion. 
Mess.hs. COLLINS and ALLf-N: Act II., Evening party. Act III., in 

fashion. 
Mr. PARTINGTON : Light pants and vest, light wig and light side whisk- 
ers, lavender kid gloves and c<»ne, eye gi asses and large button hole 

boquet. 
EUGENE WATSON : Act I , In fashion Act IT., Evening paity. All other 

acts in fashion. 
CLARENCE SUMMERFIELD: Act I., In fashion. Act II., Wretchedly 

clad. All other acts, in fashion, 
Mr. HOWELL: Black clothes, white cravat, black silk hat, gray hair and 

whiskers, cloak black. 
ISvBBY Bl.'RT: checkered pants, blue or green vest, black coat, striped 

shirt and collar, flashy neck tie, white sjlk hat. loud kid gloves, cane. 

dark mustache and heavy black eyebrows. 
Old PHILLIP: Klaek swallow-tail coat, white low cut vest, black pants. 

gray side whiskers and wig. 
JOHN: Brown or blue dress coat close fitting light pants, buff top boots. 

standing white collar, white neck-tie, white gloves, black siHs hat. 

LIST OF I^IRLOFERTIES. 

Act I.: Two letters and photograph for Clarence; Album, three boquets. 

box, supposed to contain fruit painting of an old man, for Philip: white 
and red rose, for Sibelle ; white and red rose, for Eugene and Clarence to 
wear in button hole; dnst brush. Act II.: Pislol. not loaded, for Clarence: 
bottle, supposed to contain drugged whiskey, f< r Eugene; dirk knife for 
Eugene; saddle horse for Sibelle; letter for Philip. Aa III : Chess and 
checkerboard, tray, wine and wine glasses containing wine ; dust brush: 
dirk knife tor Clarence; book of poems for sibelle. Act IV.: Letter for 
Clarence; pistol, not loaded, for Eugene. Act V.: Handkerchief for 
Sibelle; two pistols, loaded with blanK cartridges, for Clarence ami 
Eugene. 

STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R. means Right of Stage, facing the Audience : L. Left ; C. Centre ; R. c. 
Right of Centre; L. C. Left of Centre; D. F. Door in the Flat, or 
running across the back of the Stage; C D. F. Centre Door in the Flat ; 
K. D. F. Right Door in the Flat : L. D. F. Left Door in the Flat ; R. D. Right 
Door; L. D. Left Door; 1 E. First Entrance: 2 E. Second Entrance : U. E. 
Upper Entrance ; I. 2 or 3 G. First Second or Third Groove. 

R. R. C. C. L. C L. 

tiSF' The reader is supposed to he unon the HtacA faXno. m uj audiem e 



TMP96-006568 



ilBELLI 



ft5B2.A«03ST OK 1 I»LiAY : Summer. 

ACT I. 

TIME— Bay. 

.SCENE 1. An elegantly furnished drawing room ; satin damask 
and lace window curtains; two sqfettes, and chairs covered with 
satin, marble top table with large boquet of flowers, books, albwm,, 
etc.; large mirror (back centre), resting on marble slab; piano 
l.; fine blue or red exminster carpet, curtains and furniture to 
match ; gold tinted wall paper. Everything stylish. Door right 
of mirror in P.; window left of mirror in f., door r. 2 E., and 
door l. 2 e. Curtain rises. 

t}rder Philip, whistling, with Mr. Saunders picture and dust brush, 

D. F. 

Philip. Law sakes alive ! 1 never seed so much company 
as Miss Sibelle has ! heah de picture of old Massa Saunders, 
her husband. Sibelle is a mighty nice young lady to go and 
marry sich a dried up little ole man [shakes his head]. Pears 
might)'' strange how de ole man done leff dis world [hangs 
up picture]. Now if she'd done married Massa Eugene, or 
Massa Clarence, I wouldn't been so tickler boutde case; but 
to go and marry a little dried up ole man — humph ! pshaw ! 
Ole Phil knowed dar would come no good of sich doins. Ole 
Massa done treated Missis mighty bad, I tell you, so one 
bright sunshiny morning de ole man woke up dead — dis as 
dead as dis brush dat I holds in my hand. [Scratching his 
head.] I speck some one done draped pizen in his coffee. If 
dat is so, de pint is to find out who draped it Ole Phil dont 
know — dont know nuffin bout it ; but den it wouldn't do for 



4 SIBELLE; OR, IT AMoNO Tlik: MILLION'S. 

all dem ignorant sassy niggers dat ole Massa used to have 
on tfe plantation t© know what ole Phil knows, kase dar 
mought be trouble. Ever time Miss Sibelie is gwine to have 
company, she say " Philip, de picture ;" I says, '"Yes, marm,'' 
and gees right straight add totes it to her room. Mighty 
hard to keep tings in order in dis room. I guess dat will do. 

[Exit, whistling l. d. j 

[Enter Sibelle, r. l>., and looking sadly, and sits at table, c] 

Sibelie. " Oh, what a sad, unhappy life I have led ! When 
but a small child, stolen from my dear father and mother, 
from a home of plenty, where peace and harmony, in happy 
concord reigned supreme. I never will forget my mother; 
her tender look; her mild blue eyes ; her gentle smile: her 
fond and devoted love! Oh, who but the orphan can know 
what it is to be deprived of home, of father, mother, sister, 
brother — to miss their affections -their love, ! What can 
compensate for loss of motner? who can fill a mother's 
place? no one — no one! My marriage proved unhappy; 
and, owing to my husband's mysterious death. I was tried 
for the murder,. I left for the south, thinking I would liye a 
retired life, but visitors will crowd themselves upon me, and 
the constant fear of having my secret disclosed, is dreadful. 

[Rings bell, enter d. in F.J 

Phil. Yes, marm. You dont know what Sarah tole me 
dis morning bout your har, she says you had such nice bar, 
and dat dem fowers you wears do so become you. [ tinks 
so too, Miss Sibelie — dey looks dis like de flowers you used 
to bring home from de plantation. I tole Sarah as she had 
not been heah long, to take my advice and not ax too many 
questions. [Sibelie is looking at Saunder's picture.] Miss Si- 
belle, what makes you look at de ole man so much ? 

Sibelie. Why, Philip ! How dare you be ao impertinent, 
and make use of such expressions? sir, leave the room! 

Phil. Yes, marm. [Exit d. f. j 

Sibelie. Philip is getting to be very rude. It will not do - 
1 must check him of his familiarity, or he will be unmanag; 
able in a short time. [Rings bell, enter Philip.\ 

Sibelie. Philip, I'm going to my room to take a nap, 1 am 
not feeling very well this morning. If any one calls, tell 
them i cannot see them. | Exit L. d. | 

Phil. Yes. marm. Dat Sarah was comin' heah to dress 
Miss Sibelle's har; didn't have any more sense dan to come 
to de drawing room ; she'll larn something if she stay about 
heah. \ Enter Sibelie, l. n. | Tsn't you gwine to take a nap. 
Miss Sibelie ? 

Sibelie. No, I forgot. 1 have changed my mind ; i am ex- 
peetiag some one ; but, Philip, you must not he so inquisi- 
tive. 

Phil. You does'nt look well, Miss Sibelie. What's de 
matter, chile, you isn't gwine to he sick, is you ? 



ACT I. g 

Sibelle. I hope not — you can go, Philip; but stop— th^ 
picture. 

Phil. Yes marra. [Leaves with picture, and returns.] Miss 
Sibelle, de ladies has called for de rlowahs to take to de hos- 
pital. 

Sibelle. Oh ! yes [taking two boquets off piano], tell the ladies 
I am sorry that I can not make my usual calls on the patients 
for several days, that I am feeling rather indisposed, and 
that I wish I had something more substantial to send them. 

Phil. Yes, marm. [Leaving.] 

Sibelle. Oh ! I forgot. Here, Philip, is a box of fruit, that 
will be a little better. 

Phil. Yes, marm. [Ecit with fruit and flowers, d. in f. 

Enter Eda Thornton and Eugene Watson, D. in F., Eda carrying 

a boquet 

Sibelle. [Aside.]' What ! Eugene Watson with Eda Thorn- 
ton : 

Eda. Good morning, Sibelle. 

Eugene. Good morning. 

Sibelle. [Shaking hands.] Ah! how do you do, friends? I 
suppose you have had a pleasant walk, this morning? 

Eda. Yes, it is a beautiful morning, the sun shines so 
brightly; not.too warm, but pleasant; and the flowers in 
your garden do look beautiful. I think a morning ramble 
over your grounds, and the exhilarating air, quite beneficial. 

Eugene. Yes, I found Miss Eda, gathering and arranging a 
boquet. She was kind enough to decorate my lapel with 
this red rose. [Goes to piano, looks over music. 

Eda. How do you like my taste in the arrangement? 

Sibrlle. Oh, Eda, you have good taste in everything. 

Eda. I will make you a present of it for your compliments. 

Sibelle. Ah, thank you, Eda [takes flowers]. Now I will 
leave you for a few moment?, you will excuse me, I suppose 
— enjoy yourselves. [Exit r. d. 

Eugene. Do you play, Eda? 

Eda. Not much [going to piano]. Excuse me a moment, 
Eugene, I will be back soon. 

Eugene. Where are you going? 

Eda. Oh, I'll be back soon. 

Eugene. That is all right, but dont stay long. [Plays with 
red rose, and lays it on piano.] [Exit, 1 E. L., Eda. 

E tgene. Well, this Sibelle is a very nice young lady, some 
would call her beautiful. Although I can never love her, I 
must win her for her wealth. A nice rieh young lady is not 
to be picked up eyery day, and, as I have only a small salary, 
J cannot marry Eda, the only woman I ever loved. It will 
be hard to give her up ; but I must do it. 
Enter Eda, 1 e. l. 

Eda. Were you talking just now. Eugene? 



6 sibelle; or. up among the millions. 

Eugene. [Starting with alarm.) No -yes — I was saying to 
myself — I mean I was thinking — I was anticipating the 
happiness in store for us, in the future. 

Eda. Yes, but why so confused ? 

Eugene. Such an acknowledgement would confuse most 
any one, especially when intruded upon by such a pretty 
face as yours. 

Eda hangs her head, Eugene's arm around her waist, as Sibelle 
appears at d. in f., but does not enter. 

Eda. [Disengages his arm.} Dont. Sibelle, you know. 

Eugene. Oh, yes, she may be in at an\ moment. 

[ They sit on Sofa. Enter Sibelle. 

Sibelle. I only walked out in the garden. Have you en- 
joyed yourselves ? 

Eda. Oh, yes, we always enjoy ourselves. 

Sibelle. [Looking meaningly at Eugene.] I should think two 
young people, like you, ought to enjoy each others company. 

Enter Clarence Summerfield, white rose on lapel of coat, 

D. F. 

Sibelle. Ah, Mr. Summerfield, how do vou do? Out for a 
walk ? 

Clarence. Yes, my physician's advice is exercise and fresh 
air. I find an improvement, I am happy to say, under that 
treatment. [Sibelle introduces Eda and Eugene ; they all bow. 

Eda. [A 11 seated, Clarence with Sibelle.] You have been 
confined to your room for some time, Mr. Summerfield. Do 
you think you will wholly recover? 

Clarence. I think so, in time. 

Sibelle. It is too bad you are lame, though I consider y©ur 
partial recovery miraculous. I think I should have died, 
had I beea in your condition; I think you must have an ex- 
traordinary amount of patience. 

Clarence. We all have patience when necessity compels it. 
What a nice boquet that is ! From your own garden, I sup- 
pose. 

Sibelle. Yes, Ecla and Mr. Watson — that is — Eda gathered 
it for me. 

Clarence. [Going to table c.J Very tastefully arranged, very, 
very nice ! [Looking at Album.] 

Sibelle. I dont suppose you will know any ol them. 

Clarence. I like to look at albums ; I always find them 
interesting. Isn't yours here ? 

Sibelle. No, I have none at present. 

Eugene. I believe I will take a walk. I will leave you and 
Sibelle to entertain Mr. Summerfield while I am gone. 

Exit D. F. 

Sibelle. Have you any photographs ? I would like t@ see 
some of your friends. 



Clarence. Not many. I have one or two with me, come to 
think about it. [Hands her ph ttographs, leaves letters on tdblr. 
Sibelle, [Taking photographs.] Thanks. 

Enter Philip, d. f. 

Phil. Heah is a letter, Miss Sibelle. [Hands it to her. 

[Exit, D. F. 

Clarence. While you read your letter. Miss Thornton and I 
will take a stroll, that is, providing she is willing. 

Eda. [Bowing.] Certainly. 

Sibelle. As you are lame, Mr. Summerfield, you must not 
try t<-» be too gallant. 

Clarence. I hope Miss Thornton will excuse any deficient 
on my part. 

Eda. Oh, of course. 

[Exit Clarence and Eda arm in arm, n. r. 

Sibelle. Goodness! this is not tor me ! [reads] Mr. Ed. Sa ■ 
yiile. This is a. mistake. [Leaves letter on piano. Looks at 
photographs at table c] This is a nice looking gentleman, I 
wonder who he is? Ah! a young lady — rather pretty. [Si- 
lently looks at the rest.] What is this? Great Heavens ! my 
mother's picture ! How came he by it? What mystery is 
this ? Ah, dear mother, it has been a long time since I saw 
thee last ! What can this mean ? [Goes to sofa, hands to head, 
thinking, returns to table, c] Ah, what letters are these? 
[read's] Clarence Summerfield ; [reads another] Will Hastings. 
What"! Will Hastings, my brother! what can this mean? 
Oh, I see, Clarence is my brother ; he has assumed the name 
of Summerfield. My own brother has proposed marriage! 
Oh, what will I tell liim? how can I answer him? I cannot 
tell him I am his sister! No, the secret he must not know. 
Oh! this is horrible! Will the mystery ever be solved? 
[Goes to piano, tabs up two roses.] Twu flowers that lovingly 
entwine in each others embrace, and kiss the dew from each 
others petals that nourish them into faultless beauty. That 
is what Eugene wrote to me once, in describing some flow- 
ers. [Holding up white.] White denotes purity [shakes her 
head]. That is not for me. [Takes red rose.] This is the 
one Eugene wore ; this is the one for me. 

[Clarence appears at door in f. during the last sentence. 

Enter Clarence, d. f. 

Clarence. [Arm around her.] Sibelle, you are not in very 
good spirits. 

Sibelle. Oh, Clarence, I feel so unhappy ! 

Clarence. Why so sad, what is the trouble? are you sick ? 

Sibelle. No, I can't say I am sick, although I*am not feeling 
very well. 

Clarence. I did not expect to find you in such a mood ; I 
think I have come in at the wrong time. 



8 sibelle; or, up among the millions. 

Sibelle. Why so, 

Clarenee. Because, 1 have come to ask you if you have de- 
cided in the matter. 

Sibelle. Mr. Summertield, I can never he your wife. 

Clarence. What, Sibelle! you can never be my wife? why 
not? 

Sibelle. 1 cannot— I — Oh ! do not ask me ! 

Clarence. Oh, I think I can explain—this is the rose that 
Eugene wore, this is the one for me. 

Sibelle. No, no, no ! you do not understand. 

Clarence. I think I understand." 

Sibelle. You do not. 

Clarence. Sibelle, do you know why I wore that white rose? 
Because the first flower you ever gave me was a small white 
rose. 

Sibelle. I have often thought of that, 

Clarence. I thought the doner of that white rose would 
have me understand that she was pure — ns white denotes 
p Ur ity — I did think so, but I find I have been deceived. Is 
it true that you have no special regard for me? Sibelle, I 
had entertained a higher opinion of you than to believe you 
could so lower your noble nature, and participate in such a 
scurvy deception. I have always looked to you as a sample 
of unsullied virtue, having a soul with all the finer and no- 
bler qualities of true womanhood, that would not s-toop to 
betray a trust or stain her honor-. 

Sibelle. Ytht are highly regarded in my estimation, mi. re 
so, perhaps, than a mere friend would be, but I see I have 
done wrong to encourage you. Thus far I explain — no far- 
ther. I beseech you, leave me awhile until I collect my 
scattered thoughts. 

Clarence. One word : is it indeed true, you will not be my 
wife ? 

Sibelle. It is ; but I implore you use no reproaches, for 
beneaih the attesting eye of Heaven I vow I mean you no 
wrong; and I would blush to have tarnished that which is 
most sacred to woman — her honor. 

Clarence. Yet it is very plain you have deceived me ! 

Sibelle. Oh, no sir, circumstances brought about the de- 
ception. I was no willing partner in the act. Believe me, I 
am innocent; and I hope you will sometimes think of me 
kindly. You may yet be satisfied in the love of some true 
and. noble woman. 

Clarence. No, no — None but Sibelle can fill the place of the 
ideal woman my soul most cherished. No ill feelings lie 
silently buried in the deep recesses of my heart. I will 
always think kindly of you. I sincerely hope your future 
life may be peaceful and happy; that no adverse winds 
will blow a storm to ruffle the usual serenity of your gentle 



A(jr i. 9 

spirit; that yon jnay continue in your benevolent purpose, 
anil may the blessings of ileav.en be bounteously tthowered 
upon you. 

Sibelle. i assure you your good wishes are reciprocated. I 
can only thank you for your kind generosity. 

Clarence. With this I quit you; Sibelle, farewell forever. 

Sibelle. Oh, Clarence, say not those words. You do not 
know what you say — you do not understand. Recall those 
wotd.-, Clarence, do not leave me forever ! 

Clarence. Then I will say, good bye, until I see you again. 

Sibelle, You will rail again? 

Clarence. Yes ; but to see you become another man's wife, 
I should go mad. Good bye. 

Sibelle. Good bye. [ Exit Clarence, p. f.] Oh! was there 
ever Woman in such trouble? I cannot tell him! What 
will I do? 



SCENE 2. Ordinary roo)>i in Id g. Eater Clarence, l. 1 e. 

Clarence, Oh. how long the past two weeks have been. 
Slowly the weary hours drag on. Never did I feel the need 
of a companion more than now. Never did the dark clouds 
hang more thickly around me. This loneliness is becoming 
unendurable! Oh, for some one to cheer me in my hours. > 
gloom and adversity. 

Enter Eda, l. 1 L. 

Eda. Ah, you are here, Clarence ! I was surprised when 
Sarah told me you wished to see me, you generally like to 
be alone. 

Clarence I sent for you because I feel that I need your 
presence. Oh, Eda, you dont know the influence of a re- 
fined lovely woman ! Place her among the flowers, foster 
her as a tender plant, and she is a thing of fancy — annoyed 
by a dew drop, fretted by the touch of a butterfly's wings, 
ready to faint at the rattle of a window pane. She is over- 
powered by the perfume of a rose bud. But let real calami- 
ty come, rouse her affections, enkindle the fires of her heart, 
and mark her then ! How strong is her heart! Place her 
in the seat of battle — give her a child, a bird or anything to 
protect, and see her, lilting her white arms as a shield, while 
praying for life to protect the helpless. Transplant her to 
the dark places of the earth, call forth her energies to action, 
and her presence becomes a. blessing. She disputes inch by 
inch, the strides of a stalking pestilence, when man, the 
strong and brave, pale, affrighted, shrinks away. Misfortune 
haunts her not. In prosperity, she is a bud full of odors ; in 



10 SIBELLE ; OR, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS. 

short, woman is a miracle, a mystery from which radiates 
the charm of existence. 

Eda. You are very complimentary to the women. 

Clarence. Nevertheless 'tis true. Eda. I am weary of lead- 
ing this lonely life. I feel, greatly, the need of a companion 
for life, and I ask you openly and frankly will you be my 
wife ? 

Eda. Why Clarence— this is so sudden— I really— you 
must give me time to consider. 

Clarence. Consider? No. Now, Eda, now. 

Eda. Not even until to-night? 

Clarence. Not even until to-night. Now, before we part 
company, will it be yes, or no? 

Eda. Yes. 

Clarence. Then, [takes her hands,] hand in hand we will 
fight the battle of life, and o'er the rugged path strew flowers 
to make our burdens more lightsome. 

Enter Philip, r. lE.,exit Eda and Clarence l. 1 e., Clarence's 
arm around her. 

Phil. I declar if dar aint Miss Eda and Mistah Summer- 
field. Its de mixtus up afar I evah seed. First, its Eda and 
Eugene, den its Eugene and Sibelle, now its Eda and Clar- 
ence. I dosn't know which is which. Dar, [looking L.,] he's 
got his arm around her. [Scratches his head.] Dont 'peer to 
me like dey is 'hayin zackly right. [Bell rings.] Dar's de 
bell. [Exit l. 1 e. 



SCENE III. Same as Scene I. Sibelle seated at table, reading. 
Enter Philip, 1 e. l., backward. 

Phil. Go 'way from me, man, dont pester wid me, kase if 
you does, I'll spile your beauty — I'll bruise you. 

Sibelle. What is the trouble/Philip ? 

Phil. Nuffin, dat English groom tryin' to kick up a muss, 
and if he fools around ole Phil he,s gwine to get molested, 
sure as you are horn. 

Sibelle. Have you seen Miss Thornton within the last few 
hours? 

Phil. Done seed her dis minute, in de parlor wid Massa 
Summerfield. 'Pears like Massa talkin' mighty sweet, too. 
Had his arm around her neck. 

Sibelle. [With surprise.] Did he ? 

Phil. He did, for a fack. 

Sibelle. You can go, Philip. 



ACT 1. 11 

Phil. [Bowing.] Yes, inarm. [Exit, 1 e. l. 

Enter Eda Thornton, d. f. 

Eda. Why, Sibelle, you are looking so sad. What is the 
matter, any bad news? 

Sibelle. No— not exactly -I am not feeling very well. 

Eda. Cheer up. I have some good news to tell you, that is, 
concerning myself. 

Sibelle. What is it, Eda ? you know I am always interested 
in your welfare, and would be happy to hear any good news 
concerning you. 

Eda. Well, Sibelle, I am going to be married in a few days. 

Sibelle. Ah! you were very sly about it. I suppose Mr. 
Watson is your choice. 

Eda. No, gracious, no! He is not rich, you know, and the 
man that I marry must have money. But Eugene is awful 
nice, I tell you he is sweet. 

Sibelle. Not Mr. Watson ! 

Eda. No, not Mr. Watson. 

Sibelle Eda, do you love this man you are engaged to ? 

Eda. No, I can't say I love him, but I will try and be 
happy with his money. 

Sibelle. Do you think he could be happy under those cir- 
cumstances ? 

Eda. I don't know as to that; but I can't help it, whether 
he will \)v or not; in fact, I dem't care whether he is happy 
or not, I'll look out for No. 1. 

Sibelle. May- 1 ask who the gentleman is? 

,Eda. Yes; and you must not be sin prised when I say it 
is Mr. Summerfield, the young millionaire. 

Sibelle. What! my — my Clarence? 

Eda. Why, Sibelle, is he anything to you? 

Sibelle. Yes — no — I mean — no, he is nothing to me. 

Eda. Oh, I understand. I believe I will go to my room. 

[Exit Eda, l. d. 

Sibelle. I am glad Eugene is free from that woman ; but 
then my brother! She does not love him — oh! Clarence, 
I know you d> not love her. No, it must not be. I must 
save him fr.-m a miserable life. Oh ! could I explain — could 
I tell him I am his sister!. How shall I act in the matter? 

Enter Eugene, d. f. 
Eugene. Ah ! you are looking sad, Sibelle, cheer up ; it 
makes me feel bad to see you thus. 
Sibelle. I wish to be alone, if you please. 
Eugene. Well, good bye. I will see you again soon. 

[Exit 1 e. L. 
Enter Clarence, d. f. 

Sibelle. Oh, Clarence, I am so glad you have come, I wanted 
so much to see you. 



12 sibelle; or, up among the millions. 

Clarence. [Earnestly.] Are you, Sibelle? 

Sibelle. Clarence, your future happiness is in danger, when 
coupled with that woman you are engaged 10. I beg of you, 
do not marry her. 

CUtrence. What material difference can it make to you who 
I marry ? 

Sibelle. I had not thought of that. 

Clarence. It is very evident that you still have some inter- 
est in me. ~ 

Sibelle. Believe me, Clarence, she does not love you. You 
will be so unhappy — I implore, as one greatly interested in 
you, do not marry her ! [Eugene appears at d. in f.) Prom- 
ise me you will not. Will you not promise, Clarence ? 

Clarence. I promise. [Sibelle's arm around his neck. 

Enter Eugene, d. in f. 

Eugene. What does this mean ? I do not understand it. 
Clarence. It means that I'll have satisfaction — satisfaction ! 

[ Curtain. , 
END OF ACT I. 



ACT II. 

TIME— Night. 

SCENE 1. Exterior front view of a beautiful dwelling, l., with 
veranda with heavy balustrade, and steps leading up, and bal- 
cony above. Imitation of green grass in front of house, heavy 
balustrade across stage, on stone foundation, with gateway in 
center. Two lamp posts, one on either side of gateway ; lamps 
lighted, woods, statuary and rustic seat, it., whIIc commencing at 
1st E. R., running in a half circle and ending in R. u. e.; walk 
from gateway intersecting first walk. Flower pots and plants 
tastefully arranged; hills, cascade and river scene for a back- 
ground. Moon shines in sky. Curtain rises. 

Enter seven or eight couple of ladies and gentlemen by walk, R. u. 

E., ring door bell, and exit in liouse. Enter brass band, and 

play in front of house. Company enter from house, and 

sit or stand during the music. After music, exit band 

and company in house. Enter Sibelle on horse 

back, outside of fence, and stops at gateway. 

Enter John and hands her down. 

Sibelle. Have the guests arrived ? 

John. Yes, ma'm. 

Sibelle. I was detained longer than I expected. I am glad 
Eda was here to receive them. You can take Prince to the 
stable, and have the carriage r§ady in an hour. 



ACT II. IS 

John. Yes, raa'm. [Exit Sibelle in house. John with horse l. 

Eater Clarence, r. u. e., wretchedly clad; lotv music within. 

Clarence. Tis the festive night ! Music and revelry within! 
Ah, happy hearts, dance and be merry, for you know not 
how soon the hard hand of fate may bow you in grief. How 
cool the gentle breeze ! Yonder the cascade goes jumping 
o'er the adamantine rocks. Those antique hills clothed in 
their verdant robes ! All seem beautiful and happy. Oh, 
what a contrast to a miserable aching heart! Even the moon 
shines more brightly, as if to mock me in my misery — make 
me more wretched by the recollections this scene calls forth. 
It hasn't changed since I saw it last. How often have I 
strolled over these grounds with Sibelle! — right over there 
she gathered flowers that soothed my houffo of melancholly. 
But 'tis past — all past — those days are gone forever! How 
different now — no friends, no money — nothing! Nothing 
left but ray poor miserable self, to drag out the long weary 
hours in bitter reflection! In my sober senses all this comes 
back to me. Oh ! I must not think of it, 'twill drive me 
mad! 'twill drive me mad! Oh, could I sleep and silence 
grief; for on yester night I saw the moon go down at early 
morn; the thoughts of her did act like a feather tickling, 
that put to flight my quiet sleep ; so cunning did they play 
their tricks. 

Enter Old Philip, l., by walk, with letter. 

Phil. [Looks at letter and scratches his head.] I wonder who's 
dat done write to me ! Who would go and write to ole Phil, 
who hasn't got no larnin' nor edication eader. I speck its 
some no account niggah tryin' to show off dar larnin. He — 
he — he — done knows morn ole Phil if he can read dat. Dem 
letters looks like little nigs jumpin' over a rail fence — he — 
he! somebody mus think heap sight of de ole man. Yes, but 
who is gwine to read it for me? dar's a pint. [Looks around 
and sees Clarence.] My sakes ! dat man looks like he'd been 
drinkin' too much soda water. I'll dis ax him to read it. 
[Goes to Clarence and bows.] How de do, sah ? please read 
dis letter for me, sah ? 

Clarence. Yes, old man, I will read it for you. 

Phil. Thank you, sah — thank you sah. 

Clarence. [Takes letter and looks at it,] Well sir, it is signed, 
" Aunt JudyClemens." 

Phil. Well, now, hear dat — hear dat. Aunt Judy, dat used 
to work for Judge Rently. Whar she now ? 

Clarence. [Reading.] "Philadelphia, June 4th." 

Phil. Well, I declar ! Done gone t© Philadelphy — dis 
read de res' of dat letter, please sab. 



14 SIBELLB ; OR, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS. 

Clarence. [Reading.] " Deah old Phil : I does feel so- en- 
tirely lonesome since 1 done leff'you, in de city which you 
now is at." 

Phil. Bless de dear lamb ! dis listen at dat — he — he -aunty 
always did think a heap sight of ule Phil. Dis please read 
dat »>ver again. 

Clarence. [Reading.] "Deah old Phil: I does feel so en- 
tirely lonesome since I done leff you, in de city which you 
now is at." 

Phil. [Loud laughter.] Ha, ha, ha! he, he, he! I declar it 
makes me feel good clar down to my boots. 

Clarence. [Reading.] " Wouldn't you like to see aunty, and 
'brace her wid dem dear arms once mo'? " 

Phil. Did she say dat, for sure ? Law bless you honey ! I'd 
broke my two arms off. 

Clarence. [Reading.'] " I does'nt like Philadelphy, cause I 
cant see de white of dem dear eyes of yorn." 

Phil. Goodness to goodness ! Aint dat sugar on hoe cake ? 
yam — yam — iiraph ! 

Clarence. [Reading.] " Well, dear Phil, dis is all at pres- 
ent; I will wind up dis 'pistle by sayin, de roses am red, de 
violets am blue, sugar am sweet, and so am you. From your 
ole friend, Aunt Judy Clemens, 301 Cl,ay avenue." 

Phil. Bless de dear soul, I'll done write to her dis night. I 
is verv much 'bliged U> you, sah. What mout your name 
he? 

Clarence. It is — uh, never mind that — but, my friend, I 
would like to ask a favor of you. 

Phil. Yes, sah. 

Clarence. I want to see your mistress. 

Phil. [Starting with surprise.] Ok, sah ! I dont think she 
can see you. 

Clarence. Can't you arrange it with her to see me out here ? 

Phil. No, indeed ! you — you is't crazy is you? De house 
am lull of company, and Miss Sibelle dont see anybody but 
quality folks. 

Clarence. Ah ! I thought her very charitable. 

Phil. Oh, yes, she is, if you is beggin , she will see you. 

Clarence. Begging! [shakes his head.] No, I am no beggar. 
Grod forbid I should beg from her. 

Phil. I dont reckon you wants to tind de company, does 
you? 

Clarence. No. no. Do you think she would see me if I had 
news from Mr. Summerfield? 

Phil. Dat Massa Summerfield dat used to be 'bout here? 

Clarence. Yes; he sends her a message. 

Phil. I dunno, I'll tell her, she mout see you, will you be 
here ? 

Clarence. I will conceal myself until she is ready to see me. 



ACT II. 15 

Phil. May he some time, but I V ink she will see you. 

Clarence. Teil me, who is her favorite now, among the 
gentlemen ? Does Mr. .Watson call, as usual? 

Phil. Oh. yes, sah ; he is here most of de time. 

Clarence. Do yon think she loves him? 

Phil. Dunno. sah; 'pears narighty like it. [Starts to leave. 

Clarence. Stay one moment, my good man ! Does she ever 
mention Mr. Summerfield's name? 

Phil. No, sah ; she dont mention no man's name 'cept 
Massa Eugene Watson's. 

Clarence That is all. [Exit Phil, l.] Then she loves him! 
Oh, how can I endure this? [Exit r. 

Enter Eugene Watson, from house. 

Eugene. Well, my scheme has worked admirably so far. 
In one short year, Clarence Summerfield has become a "' total 
wreck." With the aid of liquor, faro bank, cards, and my 
well laid plans, I have succeeded in reducing him to poverty. 
But I will not stop until th.3 grave closes over him; for 
should Sibeilc learn of his whereabouts, she might induce 
him to reform. He loves her and might frustrate my plans. 
She must be mine at all hazards. 

Enter Collins, r. 

Collins. Good evening, Mr. Watson ? 

Eugene. Ah ! good evening, Mr. Collins ? 

Collins. This is a delightful evening; the air is so bracing; 
something like the breeze on the beach— so refreshing— I tell 
you I enjoy the seashore, oh, it is fine — fine! 

Eugene, Yes, it is very pleasant ; I am rather partial to 
the seashore myself. City life becomes monotonous, especial- 
ly in the sultry "days of August, it is dreadful ! Nothing like 
a small select" party of jovial young people at a watering 
place. Not too large a party, but just a few ladies and gen- 
tlemen. 

Collins. By the way, which are you going to this season : 
Saratoga, Newport, Atlantic City, or Cape May? 

Eugene. I dont know. I thought of going to the White 
Mountains. I have some friends going there, and I think I 
would enjoy it better than at any other place. 

Collins, the last time I was at the mountains I met Miss 
Si belle and Mr. Summerfield. She looked lovely, handsome, 
beautiful ! I believe she was considered the belle of the sea- 
son. That was before she and Clarence had their little mis- 
understanding, von know. 

Eugene, Oh, ves, I know. 

Collins. I forgot. You know more about it than I. Too 

\ 



16 si belle; or. up among the millions. 

bad to interfere with his love affairs, Eugene. Do you know 
that he fell into the habit of drinking, on account of it? 

Eugene. Why, no; did he? 

Collins. I should say he did. I saw him the other day, I 
could hardly believe my eyes. 

Eugene. Why so ? 

Collins. Well, sir, he was the most wretched looking being 
I ever saw. I dont suppose, if you look the city over, you 
could find a more pitiful sight. 

Eugene. Why, you surprise me ! Mr. Summerfield, the 
wealthy young man, being reduced in so short a time! 

Collins. Very singular, but true. It would not surprise me 
if" he weie in the poor house by this time. 

Eugene. Poor fellow ! 

Collins. Does Sibelle know it ? 

Eugene. I dont know ; if she does not, I think it better not 
to inform her. It might make her unhappy. You know 
she has a melancholly dispostiion. 

Collins. Yes, I know. I wonder what is the cause of this 
depression of spirit. 

Eugene. I think she must have some deep sorrow, that is 
working on her mind. 

Collins. Very likely ; well, I must gojn. Will you come ? 

Eugene. No ; I'll promenade a while yet. 

[Exit Collins in house. 

Enter Boby Burt, by walk, r. u. e. 

Boby. Well, pard, I've been looking for you. 

Eugene. And you are just the man I want to see. I have 
got a little job. I want worked up. 

Boby. Say, cull, do I stand in with it? 

Eugene. Yes, but we must talk fast, for you must not be 
seen here. Summerfield is lurking around here; we must 
get him out of the way. « 
• Boby. But I dont see any stamps m that. 

Eugene. Once, when he was drunk, he deposited fifty 
thousand dollars in a certain bank. Get him out of the way, 
and the money will be ours. 

Boby. You bet ail your red chips on me. I am the boy 
that can do that, and if I get copped I wont squeal. 

Eugene. He is in love with Sibelle; tell him she is to be 
married to-night. 

Boby. What ! you going to marry her? 

Eugene. No, but tell him so ; induce him to fire the house 
for revenge, he will go to prison, and we will claim the 
money. If that fail, I have a bottle of drugged whiskey, 
which will make him delirious. A small sum of money will 
procure a certificate from a physician that will send him to 
the insane asylum. Understand? crazy, f'll procure an 



\a li. J 7 

ambulance, and instead of sending him to the hospital, he 
will go to the asylum. And it' all tail, [whispering in Boby a 
ear,] murder. 

Boby. I am afraid we will have to croke him. 

Eugene. If you find him, come here and let me know, but 
keep dark. 

Boby. All right; but how do you like my togs? [Taming 
around. | Aint they stunning ? 

Eugene. They are rather loud, too flashy — bad taste, bad 
taste. But when did you make a raise? 

Boby. I made a winning last night ; a guy staked me, I 
put my money down on the tray, it won through twice ; then 
I coppered the ten and, played the king open, it came ten, 
king, I won. So I came away with a big roll. 

Eugene. You were quite lucky. 

Boby. [Takes off hit. \ How do you like my cady ? 

Eugene. It is altogether too light ; but go, some one is com- 
ing. • [Exit Burt, r. 

Enter company of Ladies and Gentlemen from house. — Sibelle 
joins Eugene, and advances front. — Remainder of com- 
pany promenade off by walk, R. 

Eugene. Sibelie, this is no school boy's idle dream, it is love, 
deep and devotional. 

Sibelle. What is love, Eugene? 

Eugene. Love is the reflection of God in man ; no wrong 
motive is actuated by love, and when passion rules the hour, 
love takes its flight. 

Sibelle. Does love die? 

Eugene. Love dies with the soul. 

Sibelle. Then love never dies? 

Eugene. Love never dies. 

Sibelle. Too true — I'll doubt no more. 

Eugene. Yes, Sibelle, ours will be a path strewn with flow- 
ers of the sweetest fragrance. Ourgiounds adorned with a 
silvery lake, where snow-white swans with silver-tipped 
wings, will lightly skim o'er its smooth surface, while the 
rippling waves silently kiss the pearly shore. Statuary of 
unsurpassed beauty, promiscuously scattered o'er our gar- 
dens. The gushing fountains will sparkle in the summer 
sun, like myriads of diamonds, and the gold fish will sport 
among the coral beds in the translucent water. The white 
foam of the cascades will dance o'er crystalline rocks. Deer 
will gambol on the verdant lawn, and play hide and seek 
among the grottoes. Birds of different plumage will flap 
their varigated wings in the exhilarating air, wafting to our 
souls the sweet perfume. Golden- winged canaries, in silver 
cages, will warble a sweet continual chorus. The rarest 
paintings adorn our palace, and all else that art can add to 
the transcendant beauty of our paradise en earth will be 



18 sibelle; or, up among the millions. 

ours. And when night takes the place of day, and the silent 
stars their vigils keep, and the tinted lilies bathe in the dew 
of heaven, our dreams will be of each other. Then, in the 
sleep of death, where dreams are not, in love well live in 
eternal bliss. 

Sibelle. It is music sweet, at eventide, to hear the whip-poor- 
will, that is nightly perched on yonder bow, and trills the 
hours away, while its soft notes lull me to sweet forgetful- 
ness; but sweeter still are thy noble sentiments of love. 
( Music within.] Play on, sweet music, play; penetrate the 
inmost depth of my soul, and melt it in a mood to love. 
Enter John, English footman, in livery. 

John. Ma'm, the carriage is waiting, hand the coachman 
says as 'ow you 'ad better 'urry up, as the 'osses har getting 
fretful ! 

Sibelle. I'll be there soon, John. 
Enter Company from garden, R. u. e., and enter house, except 
Misses Jewett and Munger. 

Sibelle. [To Company.] Well, I must leave you for a short 
time. 

Miss Munger. Where are you going ? Not going to leave 
us, are you ? 

Sibelle. Only for a short time, and I hope you will pardon 
the breach of etiquette, in leaving you to entertain your- 
selves. 

Miss Munger. Certainly ; but this must be urgent business 
that takes you away from such a gay company as has assem- 
bled here to night. 

Sibelle. Yes ; I have heard, this evening, of a poor woman 
in distress ; she has three little children, and they are all in 
destitute circumstances. I could not close my eyes in sleep 
to-night, did I not go and see to their comfort. While we 
have plenty, and are living in luxury, and even while, to 
sweet music, we whirl in the mazy dance, we should remem- 
ber the thousands that are suffering around us ; and on such 
occasions, should an opportunity offer itself, to relieve suffer- 
ing humanity, it is our first duty to lay aside pleasure, and 
go where charity calls. 

Miss Jewett. Perhaps ihe cause of so much interest is due 
to the fact that the sufferer is a woman ? 

Sibelle. No, Miss Jewett; where duty calls, there we should 
go, be it man or woman ; neither should we be predjudiced 
against any nationality. America welcomes all to her free 
shores, and it is the duty of every true American woman, to 
extend charity to all. 

Miss Jewett. Yes, Sibelle, we will excuse you ; your efforts 
in the way of doing good, will be rewarded. Go t© the poor 
woman, and may the blessing of heaven be with you ! 

| Exit Misses Jewett and Munger. in home. 



act n. 19 

Sibelle. Now, Eugene, good bye! I'll return soon ; please 
make an apology to the guests for my absence. 
Eugene. Yes, Sibelle; good bye, sweet! [They kiss. 

[Exit Sibelle, by walk, r. u. e. 
Enter Eda l. and retires L. 

Eugene. How beautiful she looks to-night! — Now to get 
Summerfield out of the way; then I'll hive his money, and 
Sibelle too. I'll go in and join in a quadrille, and perhaps 
when I'm through, Boby Burt will be somewhere about the 
premises. 

Enter Eda Thornton, from home. 

Eda. Where have you been, all the evening, Eugene? I 
have been hunting you. Just think, you haven' danced 
with me to-night. 

Eugene. Well, I declare, it is too bud ; but then I have 
been bothered some with a head ache to-night, and I thought 
the night air might relieve me some ; but I was coming in 
just as you came out. 

Eda. And I just came out just as you were coming in. 
Eugene, are you sure your head aches? Hasn't there been 
some one out here that has attracted your attention? [know- 
ingly.] 

Eugene. My attention? why no, of course not ; what makes 
you think so? 

Eda. [Slowly.] Oh, I dont know — havent you been talking 
to any one — to somebody ? 

Eugene. No, no — let me see — no, I haven't spoken to any 
one out here to-night, except my friend Mr Collins. 

Eda. I say, Eugene, does Mr. Collins wear dresses? 

Eugene. Of course he dont wear dresses. [Uneasy. 

Eda. Did you kiss Mr. Collins, Eugene? 

Eugene. No, I didn't kiss him — what do you mean? 

Eda. Oh, nothing, I thought you kissed him ; if you didn't 
kiss him it is all right, but I was beginning to feel very jealous. 

Engene. Oh, you were ? Well, let us go in now and haye a 
waltz? 

Eda. [Meaningly.] Eugene, dont you think it is very pleas- 
ant out here ? 

Eugene. [Not understanding.] Yes, it is pleasant, but I have, 
been out all the evening. 

Eda. I think is awful pleasant ! Dont you like to be alone 
sometimes, when you have some one to talk to that you like 
very well? 

Eugene. Oh, yes, I see [kisses her] ; but let us go in and we 
can come out after awhile ? 

Eda. Well, just as you say. [Exit in house 

Enter Boby Burt, r. 

Boby. I dont see anything of Summerfield. I am afraid 



20 SIBELLE: OR, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS. 

I will have to give it up as a had job. Ah ! I wonder who 
that is coming? 

Enter Mr. Partington, as a Swell. 

Partington. Ah, gwacious, whose wesidence is this, Mistaw? 

Boby. I give it up, ask me a harder one. [Aside.] I won- 
der if I couldn't cap him into a game. 

Part, Ah, ah — you give it up ; yeas, yeas. I was stwolling 
awound, and thought I would come and see what was going 
on ; yeas, yeas. 

Boby. They're having a high old time in there, some one 
going to be spliced. • 

Part. Ah, weally, I dont understand you. Spwiced ! 
spwiced — 1 dont understand. 

Boby. I mean, some one going to get hitched. 

Part. Ah, yeas, yeas — but Mistaw, will you please explain 
what you mean by hitched ? 

Boby. Why some one going to be married. 

Part. Ah, ah ! yeas, yeas, I understwand you now, I weally 
do. Who compose the happy pwair ? 

Boby, I dont know ; some of the high-toned. Say, are you 
fond of sport? 

Part. Varwy fond of spwort. 

Boby. Well, come with me, I will show you a nice game. 

Part. Is it a dewightful game? 

Boby. You'll think its delightful, if you ever go against it. 

Part. Ah — yeas, yeas. [Exit r., arm in arm. 

Enter Phil, from house, 

Phil. [Looking out at walk.] I wonder why Miss Sibelle 
dont come back ; she done gone some time now ! Dey wants 
her in de house to help 'range for de concert datdey is gwine 
to have, for de benefit of de orphans' house, or someting 
else. Miss Sibelle has more doins and earrings on 'bout de 
poor white trash den I ever saw ; now if she was fussing 
'bout quality folks, dat would be different. Dey just keep 
ole Phil jumpin' round all de time — yes dey do. Been try in' 
all de even' to get dat footman to write to Aunt Judy Clem- 
ens, but dey done took him away wid de carriage. I declar, 
if dar dont come dat rag man agin. 

Enter Clarence, r. u. e., walk. 

Clarence. Say, man, did you tell your mistress I wanted to 
see her? 

Phil. No, sah ; Miss Sibelle done gone out. 

Clarence. With whom did she go? 

Phil. I dunno, sah ; I speck wid Massa Watson. 

Clarence. Oh, curse that man — curse him — curse him! 

Phil. [Leaving hurriedly.] Dat man is bad medicine, sho'. 
He's pizen, I'm a tellin' you ! | Exit Phil, in house, 



ACT 11. 21 

Enter Boby Burt, r. 

Boby My friend, you se?m to be in distress, can I help 
you? 

Clarence. No, I believe not ; I am nearly past all help. 
You called me friend ; I have no friends. 

Boby. Then those that were your friends have deserted 
you ; they have wronged, they have injured you. 

Clarence. Yes, yes; so they have. 

Boby. Even the lady, in whom you had so much confi- 
dence; was deceiving you. The lady who feigned friendship, 
the lady you loved, scorns you, while s\\^ is happy in the 
love of another. 

Clarence. [Sadly.] Yes, I know it too well; I know it, but 
why add to my misery ? - 

Boby. Believe me, I am your friend ; I sympathize with 
you, and am sorry to see you in such a state of wretchedness, 
but. if I were you, while there was a spark of life left me to 
raise my hand against my offenders, I would be revenged. 

Clarence. [Angrily.] So I will ! what would you have me 
do'' name it! 

Boby. When all are asleep, to-night, fire the house and 
consume her to ashes. Will you do it? 

Clarence. [Emphatically.] I will — I'll do it! 

Boby. Oil your word and honor as a man ? 

Clarence. [Thinking.] No, no, friend, I can't do that ; any- 
thing but that. 

Boby. Do you know the cause of so much gayety here to- 
night? 

Clarence. No, I do not; what is it? 

Boby. Sibelie and Mr Watson are to be married to-night. 

Clarence. [Astonished.] What is that I hear? Sibelie to be 
married ! Oh, no, no — It must not be. Oh ! why come here 
to taunt me ? Leave me, man, leave me ! 

Enter Eugene Watson, r. 

Boby. [Aside, to Eugene.] Say pard, I weaken, he is game. 
[Eugene gives Burt a reproachful look. 

Eugene. [Advancing to Clarence.] Ah, Clarence ! how do 
you do? 

Clarence. Sir, I dont shake hands with such as you. 

Eugene, Why, what is the trouble? 

Clarence. Trouble? trouble enough — dont ask me. 

Eugene. Clarence, I am very much grieved to see you in 
this condition ; but I will not wrong you by heaping blame 
upon you ;. for we are all liable to fall ; we all ; all have our 
faults. 

Clarence. Yes, and some have more faults than others. 

Eugene. Sir, do you wish to insinuate? 



2'2 SIBELLE : uli, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS*. 

Clarence, f.fy.oi nside? it an insinuation, you can take it 

as such . 

Eugene. Do you wish to instill me? 

Clarence. I dont think 1 could insuti. you. 

Eugene. Sir. I will not quarrel with you, you are beneath 
my notice. 

[Starting to leave, towards door steps, Clarence levels a 
pistol on him : Boby Burt leaves stage hurriedly, with. 
both hands on hi* ears, j 

Clarence. Eugene Watson ! Put one foot on those steps 
and you are a dead man : quit the premises immediately. 
[Eugene looks at Clarence a moment, and then dart* to leave.] 
but stay ; a few words. [Eugene return*. 

Clarence. This weapon will he the means of launching my 
soul into eternity. Before I go, I will forgive you the wrong 
you have done me. Have you any whiskey to quench this 
dreadful thirst ? 

Eugene. Yes, I have some in m^ pocket ; here it is. 

Clarence. [Drinks and returns bottle.] Sibelle has gone out; 
will she he hack soon? 

Eugene. I think she will — but you would not injure her? 

Clarence. No, no — I would see her face once more, and 
then -farewell, until we meet in heaven. Oh ! how my brain 
whirls around — all is growing dark — ah ! ah! — 

[He falls ; Eugene looks over him. 

Eugene. The drug has done its work — he'll he raving bye 
and bye. [A thought strikes him.] I will kill him with Burt's 
knife [produces knife], and make my escape. His name is 
engraved on it, that will clear me. Sibelle's wealth, and 
fifty thousand dollars besides. [Looking to see if any one is 
around.] What, Sihelie coming! Curse the luck ! 

Enter Sibelle, by walk, h. 

Eugene. [Extending hands.] You have come. I have been 
waiting for you. 

Sibelle. Have you? But what have you here? 

Eugene. Sibelle, that is a crazy man that lias wandered in 
here. Poor fellow ! 

Sibelle, Poor man, how wretched ! 

Eugene, i think it better to send for an ambulance, and 
have him taken to the hospital. 

Sibelle. The insane asylum is the proper place to send him. 
Are you sure he is crazy ? 

Eugene, Yes; quite sure. 

Sibelle, Why couldn't we take him in the house until 
morning, he may only he intoxic-tted. 

Eugene. Surely, you would not think of that. What would 
the guests say ? 

Sihelie, Guests? what do I care for guests when a suffering 



ACT IL 23 

hiunan being needs assistance? But, since you desire it send 
for an ambulance. 

Eugene. Yes; I'll go at once. [Exit, Eugene. 

Clarence [Revives, looks wildly around.} Ob, give me some 
whiskey — whiskey — whiskey. 

Sibelle. Poor man, I see he is 011)3- intoxicated; he has 
been drinking. Yes, I'll take him in my house, .and perhaps 
I can induce him to reform. He may be a man of noble 
principles, and can yet be saved from the mire into which 
he has fallen, and become a just and honorable man, a kind 
and affectionate father ; a fond and loving husband and an 
ornament to society. 

Clarence. [Raising on elbow.] Oh, could I see her face Si- 
belle- Sibelle ! 

Sibelle. What is that I hear? — my name ! — can it be he? 

Clarence.. That's it— that's it — "Beautiful Snow" — that is 
what she read to me. " Once I Avas pure as the beautiful 
snow." — If I could get some whiskey. I would not think of 
her. [Lays insensible. 

Sibelle. Yes, it is lie — it is, it is. [Arms around his neck and 
holds up his head.] Clarence, speak to me ! speak! Speak, 
Clarence, speak ! [ With extreme emotion.] What have I done 
to deserve this punishment? What have I done? 

[She bends over him. 
end of act ii. [Curtain. 



A C T [II. 

SCEXE. Same as Act I. f Scene 1st; stand and checkers R.; 
stand and chess board, l.; Sibelle and Eugene, r., Clarence 
and Eda, l., playing. Curtain rises. They play silently. 
Clarence pays no attention to the game, but watches Sibelle, 
jealously. 

Eda. W T ell, Clarence, why dont you move? I declare, you 
hardly know what you are doing! 

Clarence. Is it my move? I thought it was yours. 

Eda. You did, well you see you were mistaken. 

Clarence. [Moving and watching Sibelle. Eda moves.] 

Eda. What is the matter, Clarence, have you lost your 
mind, why dont you move? 

Clarence. [Starting.] Oh, yes, is it my move, where did you 
move ? 

Eda. I moved there [pointing], why dont you wateh the 
game? I will surely get angry and quit the game if you 
continue so disinterested. [Moving. 

Eugene. There, Sibelle, I beat you, [tapping her under the 
chin,] didn't I? 

Sibelle. Ah, that is too bad ; but I'll play you another game. 



' 24 SIBELLE ; OR, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS. 

Eda. Move, Clarence, move ; you are not paying the least 
attention. What are you frowning at? [Clarence pays %© 
attention.] There, now, I'm mad; I w«nt play any more. 

[Rising. 

Clarence. What did you say? — you were saying something 

just now, were you not? |Eda looks -provoked, and leaves room. 

. [Clarence goes and sits at piano, fingering keys. 

Sibelle. There. Mr. Eugene, that makes two games I have 
beaten you, so you see yoii can't play as well as you thought 
you could. It may do you good to take some of that con- 
ceit out of you [h/ughing], ha, ha ha! 

Eugene. Let us quit, 1 can't play any more; that ding 
donging on the piano makes me nervous ; it bothers me. 

Sibelle. Well, since you have lost interest in the game, we 
might as well quit. 

Eugene. Just as you say, Sibelle; for anything you say is 
all right. 

Sibelle. Ah ! [ Exit Sibelle, r. d. 

^Eugene. Clarence, do you play ? 

Clarence. No, I dont play ; my playing bothers you ; it 
makes you nervous. I may sometime have occasion to make 
you more ner.-ous. [Exit D. in f. 

Eugene. Why ! the man is angry at me ; I thought we were 
friends. 

Enter Eda, d. f. 

Eda. Eugene, did you find Sibelle very interesting? 

Eugene. Now, Eda, dont be foolish, you know we were only 
having a little game. 

Eda. From what I s aw, I thought you were having a pret- 
ty big game. 

Eugene. Now, Eda, I did not think that of you ; I did not 
think you would become jealous at nothing; we will not 
quarrel. Sing me one of your songs, will you? 

[Putting arm around her. 

Eia. Excuse me, Eugene, I don't feel like singing; I feel 
more like crying. 

Eugene. Then I will not ask you ; but you are looking 
very beautiful, to-day. 

Sibelle. [Walking in.) Yes, she does look very beautiful to- 
day. [Eugene starts, Sibelle gives him a sharp look. 

Eda. Thanks. Sibelle. 

Eugene. Yes, I mean — she is — she is — looking better than 
— than she- used to look. 

Sibelle. [A look of reproach.] Yes, she does indeed ; I think 
the atmosphere agrees with her. 

Eugene. Well, ladies, I have some business out in the city, 
which will take me away from you for a short time. 

Sibelle. Wait, and I will order the carriage. 

Eugene. Oh, no, it is not necessary, I can take a car. 



ACT 111. 20 

Si&elle. I insist. [Rings bell, enter Philip.] Philip, tiie car- 
riage ! 

Phil. Yes, marra ; de carriage jis done driv around. 

Eda. If you are going down Broadway, I will accompany 
you, as T have a. little shopping to do. and you are going in 
the carriage. 

Eugene. Certainly, Eda. 

Eda. We will return soon, Sibelle. 

\K.rit Eda and Eugene, d. f. 

Sibelle. That woman is forever interfering with my plans. 
On account of Clarence I must stand by and witness Eugene's 
attentions to her and am forced to say nothing. How I hate 
her! I sometimes think Eugene does not care for me, hut 
when we are alone, in each other's company, he is so kind 
and pleasant. Oh, I wish I knew! If any one should tell 
me he did not rare for me I would not believe it. He says 
lie must be polite to her, but I can see a little more than 
politeness; even now she is with him. Oh, I must tell Clar- 
ence that I am his sister. If I do not, it will drive me mad! 
but then I cannot marry Eugene— I did not think of that. 
Oh, this dreadful secret- must the dark clouds ever hang 
o'er me — will the sunshine never come? [Rings bell, enter 
Philip.] Philip, take that picture out of my room. Those 
cold hard features looking down at me. makes a chill run 
through my veins ; and to think of his mysterious death 
makes my blood curdle. [Hands over face.} Ugh! 

[Phil starts with fright, and, looks behind him. 

Phil. Dont say dat, Miss Sibelle — I am not scared — it makes 
me feel kinder uncomfortable. Whar will I take it? 

Sibelle. Anywhere, out of my si^ht — any where ; in the 
garret. 
[Phil looks frightened, scratches his head, and looks at Sibelle. 

Phil. Does you mean me, Miss Sibelle? 

Sibelle. Yes, Philip; take it in that dark gloomy garret, 
that is the proper place for it. 

Phil. [Shaking with fright.} Oh, lor ! can't you send Sarah 
up dar? 

Sibelle. No ; Sarah will not do. 

Phil. All right. [Aside.] Ole Phd will never reach dat 
garret, [Exit Phil. l. 1 e. 

[Sibelle takes book at center table. 

Enter Clarence, d. in f. 

Clarence. I have been out walking, Sibelle, who do you 
think I saw ? 

Sibelle. Oh, I don't know. I am not good at guessing who 
did you see, Clarence ? 

Clarence. Eda and Eugene strolling over the garden ; they 
enjoy themselves very much ; they enjoy each others society 
[Sibelle bites her lips]. In fact, an observer would single 



26 sibelle; or, up among the millions*. 

them out as lovers; they remind me of two doves, und when 
f last saw them they were in the arbor, their favorite trysting 
place. 
Sibelle. Are yon sure, Clarence ? They left in the carriage 

nearly an hour ago. 

Clarence. They sent the carriage hack ; Eugene, thinking 
the matter over, came to the conclusion that his business in 
the city was not of so much importance as he first thought. 
Oh, Sibelle. have you yet to learn the means lovers employ 
to effect a meeting? You know the old saying, " Lovers 
laugh at locksmiths."' 

Sibelle. -Clarence, why did you tell me this? 

Clarence. Oh, you are interested — I forgot! 

Sibelle. No, no — but then — 

Clarence. But what ? 

Sibelle. [Half angrily.} Nothing. 

Enter Philip, d. in v. 

Phil. Tears like its gwine to rain, Miss Sibelle, Mistah 
Eugene and Miss Eda'll get wet down dar, playing croquet. 

Sibelle. f Very angrily.] Leave the room, sir ! 

Phil. Yes, marm. [Exit hurriedly, d. in f. 

Clarence. Didn't I tell you ? 

Sibelle. I don't care, it is nothing to me. 

[Throws down book, provokingly. 

Clarence. Oh, I see you don't care, its somebody else, its 
nothing to you, oh, no; ha, ha, ha! 

Sibelle. Well, I don't ; there. [Tarns her head and smiles. 

Enter Eugene and Eda, d. in f. 

Eda. We have had such a pleasant time playing croquet; 
but it looked so much hke-rain, we were forced to come in. 

Sibelle. I. thought you were going out shopping. 

Eugene. As it was late, and I con Id not see my man, I 
thought I would defer the call until a more favorable oppor- 
tunity presented itself, and so Eda and I passed the time in 
a social game of croquet ? 

Clarence. [Seated at piano.] What kind of croquet were you 
playing? 

Eugene. Why, the usual game, of course. 

Eda. I did not know of only one kind of croquet. 

Clarence. Eda, did you ever hear this song ? 

[Singing.] " With his arms around her waist; 

Was that croquet? was that croquet? " 
Ha, ha, ha ! Oh, you are very innocent. 

Eda. I don't know what you mean. 

Eugene. Neither do I. 

Clarence. Oh, I suppose not; ha; ha, ha! 

[Exit Clarence, d. f. 
[Sibelle gives Eugene a withering look. 

Eda. Sibelle, it commenced to rain just as we reached the 



house; hut I think it is only a sun shower ; we need rain so 
much ; wont it, make your flowers look nice, though ' 

Sibelle. \ Pleas* My.} Yes, it will [Eut Eda. 

Eugene. How have you been enjoying yourself, Sibelle? 

Sibelle. I don't know as that would interest you if I should 
tell you. Eda seems to have wonderful powers of fascina- 
tion ; she has superior charms that more than satisfies you; 
she monopolizes your attention, while I am left to amuse 
myself the best I know how. 

Eugene. Sibelle, you must not talk that way; you know I 
care for you and you alone. 

Sibelle. You don't show it very much. Don't you suppose 
I can see ? Don't you suppose I know? [Angrily.} What 
were you and Eda doing in the arbor, while you were out? 

Eugene. [Looking guilty.] Who said we were ia the arbor? 

Sibelle. Oh, you need not plead innocent. I know, and I 
will not bear with your behavior any longer; and unless 
you cease your attentions to that woman, you can consider 
this our last interview. I will rco^bear with it any longer. 

Eugene. I will not pay any more attention to her than po- 
liteness will admit. 

Sibelle. [Quiekly-.} You must not even be polite to her — you 
love the woman— you can't fool me, Eugene. Yes; you love 
her and I hate her ! 

Eugene. I promise you Sibelle, I will only speak to her 
when I am obliged to. 

Sibelle. You must not speak to her — do you understand 
that ? [ E ugene bites his lips with rage. 

Eugene. I understand. 

Sibelle. Well, see that you do. [Eugene bows. Exit Sibelle. 

Eugene. [In a rage.] Oh! she shall pay dearly for this hu- 
miliation. I am in her power now; but the time will come 
when She will be in mine, bowed at my feet. [Exit D. in F. 

Enter Phil, l. 1 e. 

Phil. Dar, now, he is got his foot in it; he moughtknowed 
better dan to he__ sparkin 'round Miss Eda, ^gathering up chess 
and checkers,} kase when Miss Sibelle is mad she is bad, I tell 
you. Dey is some company in de parlor, I speo.k dey is 
gwine to come in heah in a minute, so I'll jis take dese out. 

Enter Partington. 
My golly, what a purtyman! Goodness! dat's de purtiest 
man in New York. 

Partington. Where is your mistwess ? 

Phil. [Looking at him.) Ha. ha, ha ! His mouf looks puck- 
ered up, like he'd bean eatin' green persimmons. 

Partington. What were you wemarking? 

Phil. Dis lessen at dat. Does you mean Miss Sibelle? 

Partington. Ah! yeas, yeas. 



28 SIBELLE; OR, UP AMONd THE MILLIONS. 

Phil. Say. boss, you aint well, is you ? What is you been 
eato ? 
Partington. Oh. this is howid. 
Phil. Miss Sibelle he heah after while, I reckon. 

[ Exit Phil. r. d. 
Partington. Yeas, yeas ; I will wait. 

Enter Sibelle, r. d., Partington bows very low. 

Partington. Ah I Miss Sibelle, I believe. [Sibelle bows.) 
L called to see Mr. Watson ; I was infwormed that he was 
wisiting heah; I would like to see him on impwortant busi- 
ness. My name is Partington. 

Sibelle. I will find him. [Exit d. in p. 

Partington. Ah, thanks! What a charmwing cweture ; 
perhaps she would not object to my attentions. I will twy 
her. 

Enter Sibelle and Eugene ; Sibelle introduces Partington to 
Eugene ; both gentlemen bow and shake hands. 

Partington. I was infwormed that you were wisiting heah. 
I wanted some infwamation concerning a most deswirable 
wesidence that you have for sale. 1 called at your employ- 
ah's office and he was not in. Are you doing much in weal 
estate, Mr. Watson ? 

Eugene. Yes, very well ; but in regard to that residence, 
I dont know anything about it. Mr. Worthington just en- 
tered it on his books this morning. 

Enter Mr. Collins and Miss Jewett, d. in r. 

Partington. Ah ! yeas; well I can see you again, 
Eugene. Yes, yes. 

[Eugene bows to Miss Jewett and Mr. Collins. Si- 
belle introduces them to Partington. Partington 
bows very low. 
Partington. Miss Sibelle, you have a verwy fine location 
here, I admwire it very much ; the gwounds are beautifully 
laid out, and such exquisite fiowahs — delightful fluwahs. 
Sibelle. Yes ; it is quite pleasant. 

Enter Miss Munger, Mr. Allen. Eda and Clarence. Sibelle 
introduces TAUTmGTOK. All seated. 

Partington. Mist Sibelle. you have a gweat deal of compa- 
ny ; they can't wesist coming to this lovely we-tweat, espes- 
cially when there is such an entertwaining young lady at the 
head of the house. 

Sibelle. Do you think so? 

Partington. I weally do. 

Sibelle. I thank you very much for the compliment, Mr. — 

Partington. Partington is my name ; here is my card. 
Gwacious ! how stupid I am. not to give you my card be- 



All HJ. 90 

fwore. Now, if you can favor us with some music, I think 
it could not be otherwise than highly appweciated. 

Sibelle. I am sorry to say I haven't given any attention to 
music for some years, so I hope you will excuse me. 

Eugene. No, Mr. Partington ; Sibelle devotes all of her 
spare time to the poor. 

Partington. Yes ; I thought she had an obliging disposition. 

Sibelle, I am afraid you are addicted to flattery, Mr. Part- 
ington. 

Partington. Ah. no ; I weally speak the truth. I could not 
speak too highly of you. 

Enter Philip, r. d., with tray of wine ; in^passing it around he 
does not notice Partington. 

Phil. [Aside.] Dar's dat purty man again. 

Sibelle. [After wine is passed, and Phil sets tray on center table.] 
Is this Oonig or Heidsic, Philip ? 

Phil. [Looking at Partington.] Yes, marm ; he looks sick. 

Sibelle. [ Tasting wine.] No. it is Conig. 

Phil. [To himself .] His name is Conig; Mr. Conig. 

Sibelle. Why, Mr. Partington, you have no Champagne. 
Philip, Mr. Partington. [Meaning to ha 'id him wine. 

Phil. [Extending his hand.] How de do, sah ? I was under 
de 'pression dat your name was Mistah Conig. 

Partington. Good gwacious, how absurd ! 

Sibelle. Philip, hand Mr. Partington some wine. 

Phil. Yes, marm. 

[Hands him wine, and upsets it in Partington's lap. 

Partington. [Wiping himself with handkerchief.] Good Gwa- 
cious ! this is dwedful ! 

[Phil brushes him hastily with dust brush. 

Phil. Dar, sah, you is all right. 

Sibelle. Philip, you are very stupid to-day. Mr. Partington, 
you have been rather unfortunate. 

Partington. Yeas, yeas ; extwemely unfortunate. 

Phil. [At center table.] I is a good templar ; I dar not drink, 
dis wine— dog my butions. if I believe it is wine. [Tastes it.] 
It's cidah- no 'taint cidah,it's Magnolia Balm, or Mrs. Wins- 
low's Soothing Syrup, da r /s what it is. [Tastes again.] No — 
no, sah, it's Florida water, sho' as you was born. [Drinks a 
glass.] I declar! dis tastes dis like tar juice. 

Sibelle. Philip ! 

Phil. Yes, marm. [Gathers up wine glasses and leaves room. 

Partington. I propose we have a quadrille. 

Eda, Yes, a quadrille. 

Partington. That will be chawming. [After they all have 
chosen partners.} Good gwacious ! I am left. [After quadrille.] 
Miss Munger, if you are not too twiard, let us have a waltz. 

Miss Munger. Certainly. 

[ They waltz ; all rest company join in. 



30 SIBELLE; OK, UP AMnNK THE MILLIONS. 

Phil. [After iraltz.] Miss Sibelle, refreshments am ready. 

[Exit Phil. 

Partington. Ah, wefeshments. [Exit all except Partington.] 
[In natural voice.] Well, I think my disguise as a swell is 
complete. Eugene Watson is the man I am after; I must 
make it convenient to call her* often. 
Enter Sibelle, l. d. 

Sibeile. All alone, Mr. Partington? Are you not going out 
to refreshment? 

Partington. Wefeshments ? Ah. yeas. yeas. 

Sibelle. If Mr. Watson is not engaged, please say to him 1 
would like to see him. 

Partington. Ah, yeas, yeas; he seems to be wonderfully in- 
tervvested in the lovely Miss Eda. When do you think will 
be the eventful time? I mean the wedding. 

Sibelle. I am sure I do not know; you will have to inquire 
of some one more informed on the subject. 

Partington. Ah, yeas, yeas. [Exit Partington, l. d. 

Sibelle. Oh, I cannot bear this longer ; their intimacy is be- 
coming the general subject of conversation among my guests. 

Enter Eugene, l. d. 

Eugene. All alone? why do you not join in the festivities? 
You are not very gay of late. 

Sibelle. From all appearances, and from what I hear, you 
have been enjoying the festivities. I am not so charming or 
interesting as some one else who favors you with her delight- 
ful company. 

Eugene. I did not expect this rebuke from you ; I thought 
I would find you, and we would have a pleasant time. 

Sibelle. Find me? Yes; when I sent for you, you thought 
it time to find me— and as for a pleasant time, I think our 
pleasant times are past. 

Eugene. I will leave you until you are in a better mood. 

Exit d. in F, 

Sibelle. He little knows the woman he is tampering with. 
Enter Clarence, d. in v. 

Clarence. Sibelle. 1 have some news, which, perhaps it 
would be as well to tell you. It is this: after thinking the 
matter over for some time, I have finally decided to leave 
America. 

Sibelle. Why this sudden freak ? 

Clarence. From the first time I saw you there has been a 
strange fascination that has ever drawn me toward you ; you 
have been kind— very kind at times, but it changed to cool 
indifference. I b<ore it with an aching heart, still hoping to 
win ; but I now see it is useless to hope on, and I am re- 
solved to see you no more. Sibelle, I have long treasured 
up the thought that [ migLt one day fill a place in your 



ACT 111. 31 

heart. My efforts have been in vain, and I cannot stand by 
and see you smile on another — to see you devote the most of 
your time to another — in fact, to know that you love him. 
Sibelle, I have come to bid you good bye; it will be a long 
time before we meet again ; perhaps we may never meet 
again! Oh, what a sad, sad thought. And when the dark, 
green waves of the ocean roll between us, and I have no fa- 
miiliar scenes to look upon, save the bright sun and twink- 
ling stars, in memory I will live o'er this scene, and those 
moments will be the most unhappy of my life. [Takes her 
hand.] Good bye. Sibelle, for the last time. Yes, the last 
time. 

Sibelle. Then indeed, you are going ! Oh, Clarence, could 
I only persuade you! You do not know how much I am 
interested in vou. Could you believe me should I tell you 
all? ' * 

Clarence. After what has passed — after what I have seen, 
I do not think anything you could say would have any force. 

Sibelle. Oh, Clarence, do not leave me Mibject to the intru- 
sions of this unfeeling man. 

Clarence. What! do you wish to taunt me further? Why 
do you recall that man? Ah, fair but false woman, it would 
be well not to tempt me t<y the extreme — you do not know 
me. 

Sibelle. I mean what I say; I do not wish to be left with 
that unfeeling man. 

Clarence. Oh, how deceitful ! Your affected manners, your 
feigned fond affection, your double meaning words, your 
smooth oily tongue, your forced fascinating smile. Oh, I 
hate you ! 

Sibelle. I never thought such words would come from your 
lips ; but then, I'll forgive you, bacause — 

Clarence. Because what? 

Sibelle. Because you are very dear to me. 

Clarence. Oh, that I did know it! 

Sibelle. You say I iove another ; then will you leave me 
with this man that causes yt»u so much displeasure? 

Clarence. Oh, vilest of the vile, I could sever that tongue 
from iis roots. Oh, fool that I am ! You shall pay for your 
base deception. [Produces knife. 

Sibelle. [Quicklg.] No, no, no — you would not murder me! 
Have mercy, do not murder me ! Think how your mother 
would feel to know that you were a murderer! [ With great 
emotion.] Oh, think that I am your si— 

Clarence. My what ! 

Sibelle. Your Sibelle. 

Clarence. Turn that false face from me ; those eyes will 
make me break my resolve — that false face — a living lie that 
will hurl your soul into perdition, and fiends will snatch at it! 



32 sibelle; OR, up among the millions. 

Sibelle. For heavens sake. Clarence, do not murder me! 
Clarence. Nothing can win me from my purpose. No, foul 
wench — devil ! yon have ruined me with your wonderful in- 
nocence. A lie— nothing but a lie; Satan has made you so ; 
he painted your cheeks and limned your smile, and every 
delicate feature, that you might lure good men to death and 
hell. He puts on sueh a pretty garb as yours, and counts 
his worshipers by the score. I will see your false face no 
more. You have made a demon of me, [approaching her,) 
and when you feel the cold steel piercing your heart, know- 
that I have revenge ! 

[Clutches her around the neck, and raises the knife. 
Sibelle. [Shrieking with alarm.] Clarence, I am your sister. 
[Clarence drops the knife in wonder and astonishment, 
and gazes vacantly at her. 

| Curtain. 

END OF ACT III. 



A CT I V. 

S( 5ENE. Same as Scene 1. Act I. Sibelle seated at table, r. c. 

Sibelle. I am to give him an explanation ; I tremble at the 
thought. Oh, must I perform the dreadful task? Why did 
Providence tear me away from home and friends — from all 
that is near and dear to me. How long am I to endure this 
fear — this burden ? Oh, I cannot tell him that I, his sister, 
have been tried for murder. He comes. Now, kind heaven, 
aid me in this new trial. 

Enter .EUGENE, D. in V. 

Sibelle. [Aside.] That detestable man ! [7b Eugene.] What. 
you here, Mr. Watson? I did not think you could have the 
assurance to intrude upon my privacy, after what I gave you 
to understand last evening. How dare you enter a lady's 
apartment in this manner? Did I not forbid you coming in 
my presence — at my b©usc? 

Eugene. I thought, perhaps, you might have occasion to 
relent. I have come to make amends for the past, and f 
hope you will be reconciled to what 1 have to say, and not 
judge too hastily. If I have, by word or action evei given 
you offense, I am very sorry indeed. Or, if this estrange- 
ment is due to the fact of my attention to Eda, I will 
simply say that I was not contemplating anything more 
serious than friendship in regard to her; in fact, I can say I 
do not even enjoy her company; but if that has raised any 
serious objections in your mind, I pray you dispel them. 



ACL IV. 33 

Anything I have said or chine that has not been pleasant to 
you, I am willing to retract. I can assure you it was not my 
intention to give offense ; but if you consider that I have, I 
humbly ask your pardon, and if, on due reflection, you can 
become my wife, I will be all to you that becomes a husband. 
Have you any answer? 

Sibelle. Mr. Waison, this is mockery; I will not presume 
that you love me. You do not even care enough to respect 
me ; your conduct has shown it. Do not think I do not 
understand you ! 

Eugene. Sibelle, I do not know what you mean. 

Sibelle. I mean that you have forfeited all respect I once 
had for you. Your designs are of the basest character. 
Your deception is cloaked in smooth propositions, which are 
as hateful as they are insulting. You will confer a great 
favor on me by leaving my presence. 

Eugene. Then you do not consent to be my wife ? 

Sibelle. Sir, it is useless to ask such questions. No, sir, that 
can never be; I would rather die than be your wife ! I wish 
to be alone. 

Eugene. 'Jertainly, I will leave your presence ; but I will 
call again. I have one more call to make on you, which I 
consider of great importance. 

Sibelle. It cannot be of any importance to me, so you need 
not put yourself to any inconvenience — to speak more plain- 
ly, I will not permit you to call again. — 

Eugene. Good bye; I will call again ; you may change your 
mind before many hours. 

Sibelle. I will never change my mind. 

Eugene. [Throwing kiss at her.) Ta, ta — good day, proud 
beauty. Tral- la — la ! [Exit, d. in f. 

Enter Partington, l. d. 

Partington. Ah, good day. Miss Sibelle ; I was out walking, 
and I thought I would stwop in a few moments ; are you 
well ? 

Sibelle. [Pleasantly.] Yes, thank you ; sit down. 

Partington. Ah, yeas, yeas ; you have a very deswirable 
wesidence; every one that passes makes some complimentary 
wemark. You should hear the exclamations: such as 
" beautiful," " handsome," "delightful surwoundings," " isn't 
it lovely ?" ''what exquisite flowahs ! " I don't think you 
know how much it is apweciated. 

Sibelle. I am much obliged foi your compliments, Mr, Part- 
ington ; but people sometimes over estimate, you know, and 
they are not any less extravagant in their remarks, especially 
when the object of their admiration is immediately con- 
nected with a lady. You know unjust praise is flattery. 

Partington. Ah, yeas, yeas ; but 1 do not think I have been 
extwavagant in my appweciation of your handsome wesi- 



M SIBELLE; OR, VV AMONG THE MILLIONS. 

deuce. It weminds me of some of the dwellings down south. 

Sibelle. You have traveled in the south? What part do 
you have reference to? 

Partington. Oh, most of the southern cities have wesi- 
dehces with verwy nice gwounds, shrubbery and flowahs. 
and some of the plantwations are extraordinary. By the 
way, Mr. Watson has been in that country, I believe. 

Sibelle. Yes, it is singular; we had the pleasure of meeting 
in Mobile some five years ago ; we went down on the beach 
for a ride. I remember the. harness broke, and in trying to 
mend it he cut his finger; it bled freely; I tied it up with 
my handkerchief. I think it caused him considerable pain. 
When we met here, I did not recognize him until he recalled 
the incident, 

Partington. That is wather womantic. As we must con- 
wibute something for all of our pleasures, I suppose you lost 
your handkerchief, glove or a bow of ribbon. The ladies 
inVawibly lose some little thing; you understand. 

Sibelle. I dont remember whether \ lost anything or not; 
Mr. Watson left the city that night. I don't remember 
whether he gave me my handkerchief or not; but then so 
small a loss would be nothing. 

Partington. Ah, no; but if your name was on it, the finder 
would have sent it to you, no doubt. 

Sibelle. Yes, it had my name on it. 

Partington. [Aside.] The very handkerchief ! Ah, I almost 
forgot. I prom wist to see Mr. Watson heah on some busi- 
ness, that was the weal cause of my stwopping. 

Sibelle. [Surprized.] Did you? I don't think he will come. 

Partington: Why not 9 why not? 

Sibelle,. Oh — he— he may, if you have arranged on meeting 
here, [f that is the case, I will retire until your interview 
is at an end. [Exit r. d. 

Partington. [Natural tone of voice.] There is something 
wrong here. What was that she said ? [Thinking.] Oh, yes ; 
; ' He may come, if you have arranged a meeting here." 
Then he does not come here any more! Why he talked as 
if he were still the favorite; I will wait and see if he comes. 
If he should not, 1 must find him, and that to-day, too. I 
think I hear some one coming. 

Enter Eugene, d. in v. 

Eugene. Ah, Mr. Partington, you are punctual. I came 
very near changing my mind, for reasons best known to my- 
self; but as you wished to see me, I thought I would not 
disappoint you. I was here a short time ago. 

Partington. Ah, yeas, yeas ; I apweciate your kindness, I 
weally do. I believe I explained to you why I did not want 
to see you at your office. 

Eugene. Yes, you did; that is all right; and now I am pre- 



ACT iv. 35 

pared to furnisfo»you with the information you desire con- 
cerning that real estate. I think you had Getter deeide at 
once, as there are several parties very anxious to purchase ; 
but in order to hold it, as I knew you wanted it, I told my 
employer that I thought I had a better bargain in you. 

Partington. Ah, yeas, yeas ; you were verwy kind to look 
after my interest, and you will allow me to thank you but 
as I have decided not to wemain in the city — ■ 

Eugene. Oh, I understand ; you have your eye on some 
other city. Well, it doesn't make the least difference to us, 
as the property is ready sale. I thought you wanted it, that's 
all. 

Partington. I did wish to purchase when we first talked on 
the subject, hut I think I will take a trip over the southern 
country, and see what I can do there. 

Eugene. Ah, now you interest me. What part of the south . 
do you intend to go? I have been in that country a great 
many times, perhaps I could give you some information as 
to a good locality. 

Partington. I did not know that you had been in the south, 
or I certwainly would have inquired before; but I think the 
fwirst cities I will wisit will be Charleston and Mobile; they 
tell me there are some handsvvome ladies in those two cities.. 

Eugene. I see, Mr. Partington, you are a great ladies' man, 
and I don't think there are many that could resist your win- 
ning address ; ha, ha, ha ! 

Partington. Ah, now weally, Mr. Watson, I did not think 
you were addicted to flatterwv. Have you ever been in Mo- 
bile? 

Eugene. Let me see. [Thinking.] It seems to me — no — 
no, I never was in Mobile, but I have been in most all the 
other cities. 

Partington. I believe Miss Sibelle is from the south, is she 
not ? 

Eugene. Sibelle ? I am sure I don't know: I never thought 
to inquire. 

Partington. We were talking about the ladies — 

Eugene, Yes ; I found some handsome ladies, one in par- 
ticular, in the city of Mo — [confused,'] in the city of — it is 
strange I can't remember— Macon, that is the place. 

Partington, One does sometimes forget; but how about the 
lady ? 

Eugene. Oh, nothing, a ride on the beach, that is all. 

Partington. Is there a beach near Macon ? 

Eugene, Did I say beach '? I meant in the country. 

Partington, [Aside.] That is all I want to know. [To 
Eugene.'] Well, Mr. Watson, I have some business out in 
the city ; I will see you again ; good day. [Exit d. in f. 

Eugene, Good gracious! I came very near making a slip 



'M\ sibelle; or, up among the millions. 

of the tongue ; 1 came very near saying •Mobile, the very 
thing I did not want to say. I got out of it very well ; that 
silly tool will not understand. I don't believe he knows a 
" deswirable wesidenee," as he calls it, when he sees one. I 
think I ani safe, after five years away. [Listening.] I think 
1 hear Sibelle coming : I will tell her I know her secret — she 
must be my wife — that plan Gannart fail, if all else should. 

Enter PHILIP, D. in F. 

Eugene. Where is your mistress ? 

Phil. Dunno, sah ; speck she is gone out somewhar, I seed 
de carriage drive around, f speck she is done gone by dis 
time. 

Eugene. Perhaps she has. Tell her 1 called — you know — 
Mr. Watson. 

Phil: Yes, sah. \ Bowing, j [Exit Watson, d» in <f, 

Enter Sibelle, r. d. 

Phil. Miss Sibelle, dat gemman, Mistah Watson, was heah, 
and he axed me to say dat he called. Exit Phil. 

Sibelle. Could he have the assurance to leave word to me? 
Had I known, before last night, his true character, I would 
have avoided him — such a cool, calculating man is to be 
feared. Clarence will be here in a few minutes; he said he 
wanted to know of my past life. Oh, what shall I tell him 
in legard to my husband? 1 cannot tell him my secret; and 
if J tell him my name, he may know something about it. 
Oh, heavens! he is coming; what shall I do? 

Enter Clarence, d. in f. 

Clarence. Sister, what makes you always look so sad? have 
you not found your brother? We ought, indeed, to be 
happy. Sit down, and let us have a social chat. [They sit. 

Sibelle. [Trying to look pleasant.] Do I look sad, Clarence? 
1 think it only imagination on your part. 

Clarence. Oh, no; it is not imagination ; perhaps Mr. Watson 
has something to do with your gloomy disposition. I sup- 
pose you will marry him ? 

Sibelle. No, Clarence ; I will never marry that man. I de- 
spise him; he is no companion for a lady. 

Clarence. Why, Sibelle, I thought you loved him. How 
long have you been of this opinion ? 

Sibelle. Since last night ; his true character was revealed 
to me, and now I detest him. 

Clarence. What do you mean? What did he say? Any- 
thing to offend? Come, explain. 

Sibelle. Clarence, do not ask me; you will know all in time. 
| Clarence thinking.} What are you thinking about ? 

Clarence. I was thinking about your name ; Nellie is your 



ACT IV. 37 

name; why did you change it? Do vou think Sibelle prettier 
than Nellie? 

Sibelle. Nellie, Nellie? I do not — know Nellie? I do not 
understand — was it Nellie? [Aside.] Have I forgotten my 
own name ? Can this be a mistake ? 

Clarence. [Looking puzzled.] Why, what is the matter? 
Don't you know when you left home your name was Nellie? 

Sibelle. [Confused.] Yes yes — but — I mean — have you heaid 
from mother lately ? 

Clarence. Yes; I have a letter here, just received. [Produces 
letter.] I will read it. 

Sibelle. Yes, do. [Aside.] This cannot be my brothei after 
all. 

Clarence. [Reading.] "New Orleans, July 16th, 1878. My 
dear son, Clarence. 

Sibelle. [Aside.] Clarence ? My brother's name is Will. [To 
Clarence.] Does she live in New Orleans, now? 

Clarence. Now? why of course., we always lived in New 
Orleans; don't you remember? 

Sibelle. No ; 1 do not remember. I thought we lived on a 
plantation. 

Clarence. Well, when you left home you were so young it is 
very likely thatyou have forgotten. 

Sibelle. Possibly ; but go on with the letter. 

Clarence. [Reading] " After these many years, I have re- 
ceived a letter from our darling lost Nellie, that we thought 
dead." 

Sibelle. [Aside.] No; this is not my brother. ^ 

Clarence. [Reading.] "Only think, the letter was over two 
months coming. She said, she and an old sailor were the 
only survivors of the wrecked vessel, in which she and her 
uncle sailed. That she lived with the old sailor's family, 
until quite a young lady, married a young man of industri- 
ous habits, who, in time, became wealthy." 

Sibelle. [Aside.] How is this mistake ? I do not understand. 

Clarence. [Reading. " But died suddenly, with heart disease, 
[Sibelle starts.] leaving his entire fortune to her. She also 
said she would come to America, and reside in New York, 
but would pay us a visit first. I received this letter over two 
years past. I answered it but have not heard from her. Per- 
haps she is now in New York. I am glad to know that your 
accident did not prove as serious as it was thought at first. 
Hoping you will be home soon, I am as ever, your affection- 
ate mother." [Folding letter.] So, sister, you see how things 
have come around ; and we will go home together, and give 
them an agreeable surprise. 

Sibelle. Yes; but let me look at those photos again, will 
vou Clarence*' 



38 SIBELLE ; OR, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS. 

Clarence. Certainly. [Handing them to her. After a, silence.] 
What are yon looking at so long? 

Sibelle. [Holding up her mother's picture. | Do you think it is 
a good picture? 

Clarence, Well, really, I don't k;iovv. 

Sibelle, You don't know ; who does? 

Clarence. In fact, I never saw the lady ; therefore, I could 
not say. ■ It is a picture, I think, a detective left in my room, 
who came to inquire into the particulars of my case. I think 
he left a letter, too, by some mistake, perhaps dropped it on 
the floor. The nurse must have put them with mine. You 
will find the letter there, I think his name is Will Hastings. 
But why do you ask ? 

Sibelle, Oh," I — 1 had some friends by that name, that is all. 
[Keeps her mother's picture, and Hasting's letter, hands 
rest back,] 

Clarence, I think you act very strangely ; since you have 
learned all about your family, you do not seem very much 
pleased. 

Sibelle. [Pleasantly.] Oh, yes, I am. 

Clarence.'] Had it not been for these letters, you would not 
have found your brother, and perhaps we might have been 
married. 

Sibelle. As we did not know that we were brother and sister, 
it would not have been very singular, as young people do 
sometimes marry. 

Clarence. Ah, now you are joking — ha, ha ! Well, good bye 
for the present, I am going out tu take a little air. 

[Exit D. in f. 

Sibelle. Then this is not my brother. How singular my 
brother's letter should fall into my hands — a detective too — 
why did I not think to read his letter? I would,- if I had 
thought Clarence was not my brother. Ah, my secret is 
still safe; I did not tell him ; why didn't I? How strange 
this all is! Perhaps this Will Hastings is not my brother. 
1 will read his letter. [Opens and reads.] "Detective Will 
Hastings: The Mrs. Saunders you are after, is the Sibelle 
that I told you of; she resides in the city. You have the 
number; she resembles her mother. W. R. C." Great 
Heavens ! a detective on my track, and he my brother ! 
Yes, my brother, for he had my mother's picture ; but let 
me see ! [Looks at letter.] "She resembles her mother." Oh, 
might he not have it to trace me up? Oh, what can this 
mean ? But stop, it is his name — it must be he. Oh ! what 
will I do if it is not? 

En^er Partington, d. in p. 

Partington, Ah, Sibelle, I have come to tell you some news ; 
and you must not be frightened when I tell you my name is 
not Partington ; bui I am a detective. Your name before 



ACT IV. 39 

marriage was Julia, Hastings. I am your br ther, Will 
Hastings ! 
Sibelle. [Aside.] Oh, can it be he? [Aloud.] My brother? 
[Looks at him with suspicion and doubt. 

[ Curtain. 

END OF ACT IV. 



ACT. V. 

TIME. Night. 

SCENE. Same as Act IV. 

Enter Partington, d. in f. Takes off hat and gloves. Natural 
tone of voice. 
Partington. Well, as Sibelle is not here, I will sit down 
until she comes. [Sits R., reading paper. 

Enter Philip, d. in f. 
Phil. Law sakes alive ! . If dar airt dat fancy man again. 
[Bows to Partington.] How de do sah ? 
Partington. Te'l your mistress I want to see her. 
Phil [Aside.] Ideclar! Dat man done changed his lan- 
guage—talks dis de same as people now. Dar is somfen 
wrong heah, sho', [shakes his head.] I'm a tellin' you ! 

[Exit Phil, r. d. 
Enter Sibelle, r, u. 

Sibelle. Good morning, brother! why didn't you !?tay here 
last night, as I requested? I have the nicest room for you ; 
a perfect bijou. I think you will admire it. 

Partington. No doubt, sister, it is very nice, and I would 
enjoy it very much; but I was compelled to be elsewhere. 
You know with a detective, business is business, and some- 
times it, is not the most pleasant occupation in the world. 

Sibelle. At times it is not very pleasant, I should imagine. 
It must be a very queer business! You know, the first time 
you called here, I thought you a silly fool? 

Partington. Yes, sometimes I have to play the fool ; some- 
times I play drunk, or most any way, just as it is required ; 
I have to work myself into the first society, then in the low- 
est ; I must be up early and late in club rooms and gambling 
houses; then, perhaps I am required to get some informa- 
tion from a minister ; I frame some excuse to have an inter- 
view, aud gain my object without him knowing my real 
business. 

Sibelle. Why don't you quit this disagreeable mode of life ? 

Partington. Well, sister, my detective career is nearly at 
an end. I have only one object to accomplish, and then I 
will be happy. 



40 SIBELLE; OR, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS. 

Sibelle. Yes: you told me you were not employed by any 
one. and I would like to know what that object is. 

Partington. Can you not guess? 

Sibelle. No, not unless— is it concerning the mystery ? 

Partington. Yes ; and I think I have found the guilty one. 
[Sibelle in startled with fright.] What makes you look fright- 
ened ? 

Sibelle. Oh, sir, are you my brother? I fear I am being led 
into some trap to wring information from me. 

Partington. Why, do I not know your secret? 

Sibelle. [Frightened.] My secret ! Oh, Heavens ! — Do you — 
do you know it? Tell me— tell me ! You do not. 

Partington. Yes; have I not told you it? 

Sibelle. Yes ; but you — I — I — you — you are a detective. 

Partington. You must not be frightened ; I am your broth- 
er Will. Did I not show you your mother's picture? 

Sibelle. Why don't you say, our mother's picture ? 

Partington. I mean our mother. Sister, I tell you truly, I 
am your brother- 

Sibelle. How can you prove it? Oh, sir, prove it ! 

Partington. Can you remember, a long time ago, a beauti- 
ful white house, on the bank of a river? 

Sibelle. [Excited.] Yes, yes; goon. 

Partington. The beautiful flowers ; the white rows of negro 
huts. 

Sibelle. [Clapping her hands.] Yes, yes ; but go on. 

Partington. How we used to watch the steamboats going 
up the river; how we played under the willow trees, and 
sailed our little boats in the pond; how we played with the 
hounds, and rode on the loads of cotton. 

Sibelle. Now I remember all. [Joyfallu.] You are my 
brother. [Embracing.] You are my brother ! 

Partington. Yes;, sister ; then the dark hour came, when 
you were stolen away. It almost broke poor mother's heart. 
Oh, that was a sad time. 

Sibelle. Poor mother ! When did you hear from home ? 

Partington. Oh, not long since ; hut many changes have 
taken place since you left; many sad changes. 

Sibelle. Tell me, Will, how is mother? 

Partington. Oh, Julia, do not ask me. 

Sibelle. Oh, tell me the worst ! 

Partington. Julia, mother is dead. 

Sibelle. Dead? My poor mother! my p©or mother ! [After 
a, silence.] And father ? 

Partington. Oh, Julia, he too is dead. 

Sibelle. Father, too? all gone ! [Arm around his neck.] No 
<*ne left me but you, Will, you will be a friend to me, wont 
you, Will ? I have no one on earth, but you — all are gone — 
all are gone !..-,.. 



ACT V. 41 

Partington. Yes, Julia ; I will be your friend as none but a 
brother can. 

Sibelk. Yes, I know you will. 

Partington. Julia, I came to-night to get some important 
information from you ; but I do not feel like broaching the 
subject, in the present state of your feelings. I have not 
many minutes to spare, as I am obliged to leave for Boston. 

Sibelle. If what you wish to know is important, it is my 
duty to tell you. 

Partington. I will not ask you anything, only what I am 
obliged to. Do you remember the ride on the beach with 
Watson ? 

Sibelle. Yes. 

Partington. Do you remember whether he gave back the 
handkerchief you tied around his hand? You know it was 
found in your husband's room the next morning. 

Sibelle. [Thinking.] No, I do not remember. 

Partington. That is of great importance to me. By the 
way, I have been under the impression that you Were in love 
with Mr. Watson; in fact, I thought you would marry him. 

Sibelle. What! marry Mr. Watson? I despise him. No, I 
will never marry him. 

Partington. I am glad to hear it, for I have a little business 
with him, which he will not enjoy very much. 

Sibelle. Lately I have thought him a villain. 

Partington. That is all, now I must go ; will you please lend 
me a handkerchief until I return from Boston? 

Sibelle. Yes. [Exit Sibelle, r. d. 

Partington. She does not love him, and will not marry him ; 
she is safe: I will let him go until my return. 

Enter Sibelle, r. d; 

Sibelle. Will this one do? 

Partington. Yes, thanks; what is this? Oh, I see, your 
name. [Reads.] "Mrs. Julia Saunders." Well, good bye! 
I think 1 will he back in two weeks. 

[They kiss. Exit Partington, d. in f. 

Sibelle. Oh, I am so sorry he is gone. I will be all alone, 
now, except when Clarence is here. T can't enjoy Eda's 
company. [Exit r. d. 

Enter Eugene and Eda, d. in f. They sit at center table. 

Eda. You say you have proposed, and she has refused 
you. I cannot think of this dreadful plan without trembling, 
and I feel very thankful that it has terminated as it has ; 
sometimes I think that you might love her — that you might 
be playing false to me-that once when married to her, I 
would'be cast off. There is danger, for Sibelle is very beau- 
tiful. 



42 sibelle; or, up among the millions. 

Enter Sibelle, d. in v.. unobserved. 

Eugene. Fear not, Eda ; I really do not think Sibelle is 
beautiful. She i;- passable, that is all. 

Eda. Are you sure you do not like her just a little bit? 

Eugene. Why, Eda, of course not ; but, you know, money 
we must have; then our nice little cottage at some watering 
place ; or in the mountains ; or at some other desirable place 
where we can live and enjoy each other's love in blissful 
quietude, 

Eda. [ will be so happy ; but then she has refused you, 
how are you going to manage it? 

Eugene. Oh, that is easy enough; I have other means more 
persuasive. 

Sibelle walks front of them. 

Eugene. What, Sibelle ? 

Eda. [Both rising.} Good gracious ! 

Sibelle. [Pointing finger to door in f.] Eugene Watson and 
Eda Thornton, leave my house ! 

Eugene. But Miss — 

Sibelle. Leave my house ! [Exit Eda, d. in p. 

Eugene. I must explain ; you do not understand. 

Sibelle. I understand enough. 

Eugene. No; you do not understand that you are to be my 
wife. 

Sibelle. insulting villain ! How dare you talk in that 
manner ? 

Eugene. I dare do anything. [Producing pistol] And now 
consent to be my wife, or I will see what this will do. 

Sibelle. [Coolly.] Ah, then this is the morp persuasive means. 
Sir! you do not know the woman you are dealing with. I 
care not for my life, take it — kill me, I' will not be your wife. 
Coward ! You dare not shoot ! 

Eugene. [Leveling pistol on her.] I will give you one minute 
to decide ; be my wife, or meet your doom. 

Sibelle. No; though twenty assassins, like yourself, were 
pointing their murderous weapons at my head, my answer 
would be the same; woman as I am, I defy you— you dare 
not shoot ! 

Eugene. [Loniers pistol] Well, you are a cool one. 

Sibelle. It is not coolness that braves a coward. Does this 
harmonize with your solemn protestations of love? I will 
quote your words that you uttered when we stood in the sil- 
very light of the silent moon, and the stars of high heaven 
looked down to witness the workings of y@ur deceitful heart, 
which would shame the infernal imps, and brand you liar ! 
Listen ! such a sermon will not hurt you : 

" Love is the reflection of (rod in man. 
No wrong motive is actuated by love ; 



ACT v. 43 

And, when passion rules the hour, 
Love takes its flight." 
Eugene. You have a very retentive memory to quote so 
accurately. 

Sibelle. It seems that you have not ; ah, sir, I charge you, 
spur your memory ; you are too forgetful. Mind your 
tongue; 'tis treacherous; 'twill shame you. 

Eugene. Lady, shame and I have long been strangers. 
Sibelle. Here is another of your sentimental effusions : 
" When night takes the place of day, 
And the silent stars their vigils keep, 
And the tinted lilies bathe in the dews of heaven, 
Our dreams will be of each other. 
Then, in the sleep of death, where dreams are not, 
In love we'll live in eternal bliss." 
Eugene. [Tauntingly.] My pretty bird, when I take you to 
wife, 
And your head is pillowed on this bosom, 
Your drooping eye lashes closed in sleep, 
And the dancing moonbeams steal in 
And heighten the lustre on your silken hair, 
I fear our dreams will not be of each other. 
Sibelle. How could you, having the face and form of man, 
Don the garb of piety, and use such holy 
Means for base deception. I should think 
The workings of a stinging concience 
Would be terrible. 
Eugene. Ah, madam, 'tis my profession. 
Sibelle. You have learned your profession well. 
But it has failed you this time. Foiled 
In your little game — foiled — ha, ha, ha! 
Eugene Woman ! Your words are like a two edged sword 
That cuts on either side. I pray you have a care, 
Lest that scornful laugh be superseded by bitter tears; 
The reflection of a heart in torturing misery. 
Sibelle. Ah ! why so ? 

Eugene. I have other means better suited to my purpose, 
Which will make you writhe and wriggle with your 

spleen, 
And swallow your cutting words until they choke you. 
Sibelle. Cease your prattle, you barking monkey! 

To prate out sill^ nothings ; your fuming threats 
Will injure naught but you. I beg ®f you. 
Smother your ill humor; 'tis hot becoming to one so 
gallant. 
Eugene. Woman, know the worst. The canker worm secret, 
is gnawing at your heart, and will not give you rest ; you 
must answer for your husband ; your hands are stained with 
his blood. (Clarence d. in f. 



44 sibelle; or, i;i> among the millions. 

Sibelle. Now, merciful heaven, defend me ! 
Spirit of the departed, hover o'er 
And protect me from this vile monster ! 
Eugene. Ah, you do not laugh now. 

Sibelle. [Bowed at his feet] Oh, sir, spare me — spare me — 
have mercy ! 

Eugene. Bowed at my feet at last. 

Sibelle. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes ; von will not expose 
me? 
Eugene. If you consent to be my wife, I will not. 
Sibelle. Oh, sir, have some mercy — have some pity — if you 
have a sister, think of her in my condition. I could not 
make you happy — do not ask me to be your wife ! 
Eugene. That you must be. 

Sibelle. Have" you no fueling? Have you a heart? Can 
you not be induced to release me ? Will nothing suffice? Is 
there no alternative ? 
Eugene. No ; do you consent ? 
Sibelle. Oh, kill me and end my misery. 
Eugene. Do you consent? 
Sibelle. Have you no heart? 
Eugene. Xo, 

Sibelle. Is it turned to stone? 
Eugene. Yes; stone — stone. 
Sibelle. Can I not hope for mercy ? 
Eugene. Mercy ? Talk not to me of mercy ; 
Talk to the winds, to the moon, the stars ; 
Talk to any thing, not human, and it 
Will as soon have mercy. For the last 
Time I ask, do you consent? 
Sibelle. Yes. 

Eugene. Then I will go for a minister immediately. 
Sibelle. What, so soon ? 

Eugene. Yes ; this very night. [Clock strikes one. 

Sibelle. One o'clock ; but this is morning. 
Eugene: This morning, then. [Starts to leave room. 

Enter Clarence, d. in f. 

Eugene. What! Mr. Summerfield ? 

Clarence. Yes ; Mr. Summerfield. I have a little settle- 
ment with you 

Eugene. Sir, explain. 

Clarence. You are in possession of this lady's secret. Now 
sir. why do you compel my sister to marry you ? 

Eugene. [ With surprise.] Your sister ? 

Clarence. My sister ! 

Eugene. [With emphasis.] Your sister? 

Clarence. Yes, my sister ! 

Eugene. I do not choose to explain. 



ACT V. 4") 

Clarence. Then, sir. as L have said before, 1 will have 
satisfaction. [ Throwinq glove at him,.] Accept thai, you insig- 
nificant puppy. 
Eugene. Do I understand that this means a challenge- that 

ii means knives? 

Clarence. Yes; knives to the hilt — to the hilt! 

Eugene. I do net accept. 

Clarence. In that case, you black hearted coward, the 
weapons shall be pistols, the time shall be whenever we 
meet again — at sight. [Pointing pistol at him.] I will give 
you one minute to decide. Do you agree? 

Eugene. [Bowing and starts to leave.} I do. 

Clarence. One moment. [Eugene stops.] Remember, at 
sight. Clarence Summerfield is a man of his word, and if 
you have not the courage to stand up and right like a man, 
l will shoot you down as I would a dog. 

[Exit Euoene i). in f. 

Clarence. Sister, I overheard your conversation, and I could 
hardly refrain from shooting the villain on the spot. This, 
then, is your secret? 

Sibelle. Yes; and now I must tell yon that I am not your 
sister. I thought you were Will Hastings, from the letter 
and my mother's picture, that you had in your possession. 
I could not tell you before, for reasons best known to myself, 
and I can trust the secret with yon, for you have always 
stood high in my estimation. 

Clarence. I see it has been a mistake. Your secret is safe 
with me; but I cannot endure the thought that yon are not 
my sister, and compelled to be ids wife. Oh, Sibelle, be my 
wife. I love you. 

Sibelle. I cannot trust my secret with him. I could not 
endure it to be pointed out as a murderess, or even for being 
tried for murder. Were it not for that, f would consent. 

Clarence. This is too much to bear! 

Sibelle. Clarence, you must not endanger your life for me : 
I am not worth it. Were I free from this man, I could not 
make you happy with this dreadful secret weighing me down. 
Now I beg of you, do not fight that duel, will you Clarence? 

Clarence. Fight? Send the bullet through the coward'* 
lie art! [Exit Clarence, d. in v. 

[Light thunder and lightning. 

Sibelle. Great Heavens ! Must I endure all this — drag out 
a miserable existence with a man whom I despise ? Even 
his presence \ abhor as a hissing viper, coiled to sting with 
poisoned fangs. Yet I must be his wife — Oh, horrors ! I 
cannot, it will kill me, it will kill me! 

[Bowed in grief, on cha,ir, r. c, slov) music. 
[Stom^ thunder, lightening and rain. 



46 SIBELLE ; OR, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS. 

Enter Eugene and Minister, d. in P. Eugene leads Sibelle 
r. facing l 

Eugene. Proceed, Mr. Howell. 

Mr. Howell. Eugene, do you take this woman to be your 
lawful wedded wife, to love, honor, cherish and protect, 
through sickness and sorrow, prosperity and adversity, for- 
saking all others, and cleaving unto her, until death do part? 

Eugene. I do. 

Mr. Howell. Sibelle, do you take this man to be your law- 
ful wedded husband, t© love, honor, cherish and obey, 
through sickness and sorrow, prosperity and adversity, for- 
saking all others, and cleaving unto him, until death do part? 

Sibelle. I do. 

Mr. Howell. If there be any that know any just cause or 
reason why these two should not be united in holy wedlock, 
they can now speak, or forever hold their peace. 

After a pause, enter Partington. 

Partington. Yes, I have a reason, and at is because that 
man, Eugene Watson, is guilty of the murder of Nathan 
Saunders, the husband of this lady. [Producing blood stained 
handkerchief. [Eugene looks thunderstruck.] Do you recognize 
this, Mr. Watson ? 

Sibelle. Thank heaven, the mystery is solved at last ! 

Partington. Yes, sister; this has been my one object for the 
last five years. I have at last found the guilty one. My 
detective life is ended, and you are a free woman. 

Sibelle. Oh, brother, how can I ever repay you? 

Partington. Don't mention that. 

Enter Clarence, 1st e. l., and levels pistol on Watson. 

Eugene. [Coolly.] I am not armed, Mr. Summerfield. 

Clarence. [Lowering pistol] Our agreement was to shoot at 
sight ; but I will not take undue advantage of you ; I will 
furnish you with a pistol. We wjll stand back to back, as 
far apart as this room will admit ; Mr. Partington will count 
three, then we will turn and fire. Do you consent? 

Eugene. [Bowing.] I do. [Clarence hands him a pistol. 

Sibelle. Clarence, do not endanger your life, you may be 
killed! [Exit Sibelle, l. d. 

Mr. Howell. Yes, you may be killed — Gentlemen, I im- 
plore, desist ! [Rubbing hands, excited.] Oh, the scandal, 
gentlemen, the scandal ! Oh, I cannot witness this affair. 

[Exit d. in F. 
[They take positions. Eugene, r. u. e.; Clarence, l. 1 e. 

Partington. Are you ready ? 

Both. Yes. 



ACT V. +7 

— Partington. One — two — 

Enter SiBELLE, mncli agitated. 

Sibelle. For heaven's sake, brother, do not say the word! 
Forbear awhile, I beseech you! [To Clarence.] Do not 
siain your hands in blood! Should you triumph in this, 
nothing could mitigate the stinging remorse of a guilty con- 
cience ! Clarence, let the law take its course. 

Clarence. The law ? 

Sibelle. Yes ; this man, Watson, is now under arrest for the 
murder of my hut band, and I believe him guilty. 

Partington. So he is. 

Clarence. Sibelle, you are right. You are always right ; 
and now I claim } r ou mine forever. 

Sibelle. Thine far ever. 

[Curtain. 




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